


It's Only For a Year

by CupcakeGirlA



Series: AER Series [2]
Category: Olympics RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupcakeGirlA/pseuds/CupcakeGirlA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Live, Laugh, and Love at the Boat House.</p><p>With Ricky, Eric, and Aaron all finally under one roof things are going great. But soon things get turned around when Eric has to choose between furthering his career or staying Austin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only For a Year

**Author's Note:**

> Written upon request. Sigh. Stupid Plot bunnies. Based on real facts (ie: certain swimmers moving across country, etc.) but outside of the real timeline.

Ricky yawns, rolling over on the end of the couch, his feet and legs hanging off over the arm. He’s curled up into a ball, exhausted after the first real week of practices back after last weekend’s Grand Prix Event in Charlotte. His head rests in Aaron’s lap, cushioned there by a muscular thigh, one of Aaron’s big hands carding through his hair. He presses his face into Aaron’s stomach curling closer into the older man’s body. Aaron laughs, scratching at Ricky’s scalp. Ricky sighs, smiling against Aaron’s t-shirt clad tummy and letting his body go limp. The hand in his hair smoothes the tangled tresses and strokes down over Ricky’s face.

 

“Are you ever going to shave this mess off?” he asks, ruffling the scruff of Ricky’s cheeks and chin. Ricky scowls.

 

“I shaved down my whole body for the meet. I’m enjoying my natural normal hairiness,” he says quietly, fighting back a yawn. Laughter rings out from behind him, and Ricky rolls back over in place to see Eric entering the room. He’s got a bag of chips and a huge glass of tea in his hands, which he sets down on the coffee table.

 

“You’re the most naturally hairy person I know!” Eric says. Ricky laughs, flopping over onto his back, head still resting in Aaron’s lap. He looks up at Eric with a grin.

 

“You know you like it!” he teases. Eric rolls his eyes. He braces himself against the back of the couch behind Aaron and leans down to press his lips to Aaron’s mouth. Aaron accepts the kiss with a groan, his hands tugging at Eric’s hips. Ricky, with his head still in Aaron’s lap laughs, shoving at their bodies. “You’re going to suffocate me!” he says. Eric breaks off the kiss laughing. He plops down on Aaron’s other side, as close to him on the couch as he can get, his right knee flung over Aaron’s left thigh. Ricky rolls over again, to rest on his stomach, his t-shirt twisting up his body with the movement. He presses a kiss to Eric’s knee, sliding one hand up the leg of Eric’s baggy shorts. Eric laughs and Aaron smacks at Ricky’s hand.

 

“Mine,” he says, pulling Eric half way into his lap. Ricky pouts.

 

“You are no fun!” Ricky says. Eric just laughs, shaking off both their hands to reach for the bag of chips.  Ricky’s breath catches in his throat a little at the action, watching the other man’s t-shirt ride up at the small of his back. This time it’s Aaron laughing, reaching forward to tug the shirt down.

 

“Now is not the time for hormone surges. Eric has something important to talk to us about,” he says, sitting back. Ricky frowns, pulling himself up to sit on the couch facing them, his long legs crossed under him.

 

“What’s going on?” he asks. Eric sighs, sitting back with the bag in one hand, and his tea in the other. He takes a deep steadying breath.

 

“How do you do that?” Eric asks, sticking the glass between his knees, and ripping open the chips.

 

“Do what?” Aaron asks, reaching for the bag. Eric holds it away from him, crunching down on a chip.

 

“Know when I want to talk about something important?” he asks, still chewing loudly. Aaron rolls his eyes, dropping the hand down to rest on Eric’s closest knee.

 

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Aaron says. Ricky thinks about it. It’s true. Eric had been more quiet than usual lately. They’d only been a… well, Ricky wasn’t sure exactly what they were, for about a month or so. They weren’t a couple, or a pairing. They were a trio, or a threesome, but he didn’t like that connotation. Well whatever they were, they’d only been together a few weeks, and Ricky was still learning this type of relationship stuff about both Aaron and Eric. “And you’ve been frustrated at the pool more and more. You were clearly unhappy with your results at Charlotte, and you only go for the Grandma Utz when you’re feeling particularly depressed,” Aaron explains. Ricky’s forehead creases as he goes over each of these reasons in his head.

 

“Wait, is that why there’s always that one bag up on the top shelf in the very back, hidden behind the spaghetti sauce?” he asks. Aaron turns smiling at him and reaching out to pat Ricky’s hand.

 

“You’ll learn his quirks in time,” Aaron says, turning back to Eric. Eric rolls his eyes, crunching on another potato chip.

 

“I am not that predictable!” Eric objects. Aaron just stares at him, waiting for him to start talking. Ricky, taking Aaron’s lead, waits patiently too. He turns his back into the couch and snuggles into Aaron’s other side, joining him in the Eric Shanteau stare off. Eric cracks up laughing, and sinks down on the couch. He unfolds his legs, stretching them out across both Aaron and Ricky’s laps, sliding down until his head is resting on the couch arm. He sighs.

 

Ricky, presented with one smooth calf, rubs his fingers up and down the sculpted muscle, until Eric laughs, jerking it away from him. When he relaxes once more, he’s got a serious look on his face. Aaron sighs, wrapping a hand around Eric’s closest knee.

 

“Spill it, Shanteau!” he orders. Eric frowns.

“I’m not happy with how I’m doing in the pool. I feel like I’m not getting any better. I don’t know if that’s because I’ve hit my professional peak and it’s now all downhill from here, or I need a change or what… I just don’t know what to do,” he looks at Aaron and then Ricky, his face plaintive. Aaron sighs.

 

“What do you think it is you need? Different coaching? A change in routine? What?” he asks. “Because I’m fairly sure it’s not that you’re too old.” Ricky laughs at the notion.

 

“You’re definitely not too old!” he says, wrapping one hand around Eric’s ankle, but not moving it. Eric puts both hands over his face.

 

“That’s the thing. There are no other National level breaststrokers here. The coaches are great. I’ve improved so much since I came here. But I’m the only competitive professional breaststroker in Austin, in the whole state. I need a change and I don’t know what to do about it. All I know is if I want to go for London and do better than I did in Beijing, something has to change.”

 

“We’ll think of something. You still have time to fix this,” Ricky says in encouragement. Eric smiles at him, putting one folded arm under the back of his neck.

 

“Well if I’m going to fix whatever isn’t working, it has to be soon… Olympic Trials are only 13 months away.”

 

 

In mid June, Ricky and Eric both head to Santa Clara for the Grand Prix event being held there. It’s the 7th such event of the competitive season, and Ricky is hanging out at the top of the standings. He has a real chance of earning some good prize money this year. So even though he’s not feeling his best, he packs his bag and heads off for California to compete. With Ryan Lochte and Michael Phelps both sitting this event out in prep for World Championships the next month, the media attention seems to shift to some of the other swimmers at the meet. Ricky gets interviewed quite extensively. He’s just behind Missy Franlkin, Ryan, and Mike in the overall standings, and the top rated male swimmer at the meet. Ricky does good. He makes it into three finals, and wins two of them, placing second in the third. Overall it’s a great meet. When he’s not swimming, preparing to swim, or warming down after a swim, he sits in the stands and watches Eric.

 

Eric is only competing in his standard three races: the 100 Breast, the 200 Breast, and the 200IM. Ricky watches him race the 200 breast, his very best race, and come in second. Then watches him come in third in the 100 breast and fourth in the 200 individual medley. Eric’s pissed afterwards, cold and tense. Uncommunicative. He slams his way out of the locker room, heading back to the hotel by cab without waiting for the rest of the Long Horns team. By the time Ricky makes it back it’s been over an hour. He finds Eric sitting in their shared hotel room, perched on the end of the unused double bed, bent over with his head resting in his hands.

 

“Eric?” he calls, closing and bolting the door behind him. It is times like this he really wishes Aaron still raced in the smaller meets. He could use Aaron’s greatly honed Eric-intuition right about now. He steps closer, hesitant. “Eric?” he says softly, reaching out to run his fingers through Eric’s hair. It’s stiff with dried chlorine. He hadn’t even taken the time to shower before storming off. Eric seems to go limp, slumping forward, his arms wrapping around Ricky’s waist. His forehead presses to Ricky’s sternum, his arms locking tight around him. Ricky reaches down to pat his back, stepping closer. “It’s ok. It was just one meet,” he says quietly. Eric shakes his head. He picks it up and looks at Ricky with such sad eyes that Ricky wants to cry right along with him.

 

“It’s not just one meet, Ricky. You know that as well as I do. I have to do something,” he says with conviction, hands fisting in the back of Ricky’s t-shirt. Ricky nods.

 

“We’ll talk to Aaron?” he suggests.

 

“Aaron can’t solve every problem in the world, Ricky,” Eric says softly. He pulls back, loosening his hold on Ricky’s waist. The younger man frowns, tightening his grip on Eric’s shoulders. It had always seemed that way, that Aaron always had the right answer. The right solution. He licks his lips.

 

“Maybe not,” he says with a shrug. “But at least with three minds brainstorming we can come up with a solution.” Eric laughs a little, but it sounds bitter, something Ricky’s not used to hearing or seeing in Eric of all people.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be that simple,” Eric says shaking his head. He closes his eyes tightly a moment, before opening them again. A shift comes over him, his mood lightening. He smiles at Ricky, practically beams at him. “But you! Mr. Freestyler!” he says laughing. He tugs Ricky closer by the hips, his fingers wiggling under the waistband of Ricky’s gym-shorts. “Two golds and a silver!” he crows. Ricky blushes a little, looking away. Eric tugs him closer, biting his lower lip. “Now that’s something to celebrate,” Eric says with a smirk. Ricky laughs, letting Eric pull his t-shirt off, and his gym shorts down. He toes out of his sandals, kicking them aside, and bracing himself on Eric’s shoulders as he steps out of the last of his clothes. Eric’s mouth presses to the center of his tummy, tracing over muscled flesh, and up to lick across a nipple. Ricky groans, pulling Eric’s mouth up to his own, stooping down to kiss the shorter man seated in front of him. He tugs up Eric’s shirt, breaking the kiss to pull it free. He kisses Eric again, feeling one big hand circling around the base of his dick, already hard and eager.

 

“Want to shower?” he asks, groaning at the feel of Eric’s hand closing around him tightly. Eric shakes his head.

 

“That will take too long,” he says between pants, nipping at Ricky’s lips. “Besides, the smell of chlorine,” he grins, “can be kind of a turn on,” he fixes his mouth to the side of Ricky’s neck, carefully so as to not leave marks, and pulls Ricky’s body in closer against his own. Ricky gasps, smiling down at him.

 

“How? Role-play?” he asks with a snicker. Eric pulls back; grinning up at him.

 

“If you want!” he says his eyes lighting up. He lets Ricky go, sliding back up the bed, wearing nothing but his track pants. “Here… You be the experienced Olympian. The one with the drawer full of medals and wall of world records back home. And I’ll be the scared newbie at his first National level event. You’ve gotten stuck rooming with me, and I’m half in love with you already, just because of your medal count. Are you going to take advantage?” Eric says slyly. Ricky stares at him half in confusion, and half in fierce sudden arousal. Eric laughs. “Well, Ricky? Are you going to take me under your wing, and show me how an Olympic Medalist fucks or not?” he asks, spreading his legs, and putting an innocent almost doe-eyed expression on his face. Ricky swears if he could get his mouth to open, there’d be drool dripping down his chin. He stares for a moment, seeing the want in Eric’s eyes. Once he can get his body to move, there’s only once decision to be made. He pounces, tackling Eric back down against the mattress. How does he want Eric? On his back underneath him, staring up with those eyes? On his knees, bucking back against him? Or up on top, riding him nice and hard? Decisions. Decisions…

 

 

Aaron must pick up on something. The inflection of Eric’s voice when he calls home the next morning to let Aaron know when their flight gets in, the look on Eric’s face after that last failed race in the television coverage, or maybe the slight panic in Ricky’s tone when Aaron asks him how Eric’s holding up when they talk on the way to the airport. Either way, he’s waiting for them in the living room when they get home. The TV is off, the shades drawn, and he’s all business. He kisses Eric, who is first through the door, with an intensity that has Ricky, standing nearby half-hard in anticipation. Eric actually stumbles a little when he’s released, wiping at his mouth and looking a little perplexed and slightly dazed. When it’s Ricky’s turn, he gets a softer sweeter kiss, and a whispered: “Congratulations.” The proud smile on Aaron’s face, when he says it makes Ricky’s heart expand a little in his chest. But it doesn’t last, because Aaron’s focus shifts back to Eric, who is actually trying to sneak up the stairs without being noticed while they’re distracted by each other.

 

“Eric,” Aaron calls. Eric’s shoulders tense, and almost immediately go loose with feigned nonchalance.

 

“Hey, Aaron!” Eric says. Aaron raises an eyebrow, nodding his head toward the couch. The couch, has become their talking place. It was the spot where all three of them piled one on top of the other to discuss things of great importance. Eric sighs dropping the act and going to plop down in the middle of the couch. He pulls a throw pillow into his lap, picking at a loose thread hanging off of one corner. Ricky and Aaron follow him over, sitting on either side of him.

 

“You gonna talk about this or not? Because I don’t think we have any sweet tea mixed up, and you forgot to replace the potato chips after last time,” Aaron says. Eric laughs a little.

 

“I don’t think I can keep swimming the way I have been. This is my last chance at the Olympics, I can’t half-ass it,” he says. Aaron nods. He understands that. Ricky nods too.

 

“So we have to think of a solution,” Ricky offers. Eric sighs then, shaking his head.

 

“I don’t have the coaching I need here. I don’t have the competition that I need here,” he says quietly, like it hurts to admit it. Ricky feels a lump forming in his throat. He doesn’t want Eric to have to leave. Eric takes a deep breath, looking at first Ricky and then Aaron. “Dave Salo approached me yesterday. He wants me to come out and train with his breaststroke squad. To _join_ the squad.” Eric says quietly, staring down at his hands gripping the pillow. Ricky feels like the floor has just dropped out from under him.

 

“At USC?” he asks in disbelief. “In California?” Eric nods.

 

“With Rebecca Soni and Kosuke Kitajima,” Eric adds. He shakes his head. “They’re the best breaststrokers in the world, and their coach wants me to come out there. He wants me to train with them. Coach Salo says I have amazing natural talent, and that I can be the best. But I have to race against the best. I have to train with the best.” He lifts his head up, staring across the room at the flat screen TV, dark and silent.

 

“Then that’s what you need to do. We’ll support you no matter what,” Aaron says quietly. Eric’s head swings around quickly to look at him.

 

“Don’t say that! We need to discuss this, all three of us, together. You can’t just speak for Ricky like that!” Eric replies. Ricky laughs.

 

“Why not? Aaron and I both know how important swimming is to you, Eric. It’s what you live for right now. We’d never keep you here in Austin when you need to be somewhere else. It’s pretty much a moot point,” Ricky says with a smile. Inside his heart is breaking with the mere notion of Eric going off to Los Angeles without them. But he knows it’s what Eric needs. He won’t be the reason Eric has regrets going into the London games.

 

“So it’s settled,” Aaron says, reaching out to pull the pillow out of Eric’s grip. “You need to be in LA, so in LA you will be.” He grins when he says it, but Ricky’s not sure it entirely reaches his eyes. “You won’t be that far away. And we can visit back and forth. It’s only for a year.”

 

 

It’s only for a year. It’s only for a year. Ricky keeps repeating it to himself over and over again. They’re all unusually quiet that night. Eric looks half excited and half depressed, swinging from one mood to the other and back again. Aaron just looks vaguely amused, as he starts flipping through the household calendar to try and plan things out. It’s late June. Worlds Championships are only a month away. They all agree it wouldn’t be a good idea for any of them to take the time off from training to deal with house hunting, or driving across country to move Eric to LA right now. So the decision is made for Eric to switch training groups after World Championships. Eric nods in agreement.

 

“Things are happening too fast. I need to process. We all need to process this,” Eric says, looking suddenly very frazzled. Ricky laughs, pulling Eric down into his lap. He wraps his arms around Eric’s waist, holding him down.

 

“You won’t be moving for at least another 6 weeks. Calm down, Eric,” he says in Eric’s ear. Eric goes limp against him, putting his head back on Ricky’s shoulder.

 

“Why aren’t you guys freaking out about this? It’s like you want me to go!” Eric groans. Ricky scoffs in his ear.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he says. He presses a kiss to Eric’s throat. “You’re the glue that holds us all together,” he says it quietly, tightening his grip around Eric’s waist. Eric laughs.

 

“You guys will be fine without me. This next year is going to suck,” he says quietly.

 

“It’s only for a year,” Ricky repeats out-loud. Eric sighs, relaxing back against him fully. Aaron walks back into the room, and seeing them scrunched together in the chair, he grins.

 

“Yes. It’s only for a year!” he proclaims with a fist-pump, walking right back out of the room through the other door. Eric and Ricky both crack up laughing.

 

 

Eric has a meeting with the Long Horns Coaching staff, with Doug Rusk, and Eddie Reese. They understand about his need for a more focused training and agree that such a move should probably wait until the short break after World Championships. Eric asks them to keep it quiet, and they agree. When the meeting is over, Eddie pulls him aside and shakes his hand, wishing him well.

 

Eric calls Coach Salo who is thrilled with his decision and okays their timeline for the move. He even sends a packet of information on nearby apartment rentals and houses that are up for lease, to take off some of the pressure.

 

The build up for the FINA World Championships in Shanghai seems to at once take forever and speed by. The 5 weeks between the last Grand Prix event and Worlds is filled with training, sleeping, and the three of them engaging in way more sex than was probably good for them. Ricky tries to ignore the way the three of them have started to cling to each other each night like they can’t get enough, or will soon be ripped apart. He doesn’t like to think about the coming separation.

 

The whole National team flies out to China the week before the Championships start. Aaron and Eric get roomed together, with Ricky staying down the hall with his old roommate Dave Walters. But Eric passes him a spare key card and winks at him in the elevator, so Ricky knows he’s welcome. They have a rule: No sex at a competition. But that doesn’t mean he can’t visit them. Either way it’s going to be a long week.  They do take time to celebrate Aaron’s 28th Birthday. The entire US team throws him an impromptu party the night before the competition starts complete with cake, ice cream, and presents.

 

With the three of them competing in completely different events it seems like there’s always one of them in the pool either training, warming up, racing, or warming down. The seven days seem to fly by. Ricky and Aaron root for Eric as he swims his races. They watch him come in second behind Kitajima in both the 100m and 200m breast. He doesn’t make the final in the 200IM.

 

Eric and Aaron root for Ricky as he swims the freestyle events. He gets third in the 100 free, behind fellow American’s Nathan Adrian and Mike Phelps, sweeping the podium. Then gets 2nd in the 200 free, and 1st in the 4x100 free relay. At the end of the week he’s happy but not ecstatic.

 

Naturally Eric and Ricky sit together to root Aaron on for his two swims. They watch Aaron come in first in both the 100 Back and the 200 Back. Though each time it’s a close call. Ryan Lochte and Nick Thoman are right there with him at the end. So he wins, but Aaron looks pained, exhausted after each race, like he gave it all he possibly could.

 

Between the three of them they’ll be taking home 7 medals. A pretty good haul. After the final race has been swum, and the competition is over, the three change into nicer clothes and go down to the hotel restaurant. It’s a relaxed evening. The three of them enjoying good wine, food, and company. Other swimmers from around the world stop by their table to chat one and two at a time the whole meal. None of them seem to mind, it’s not often they get to see some of the other swimmers who drop by to visit.

 

None of them are surprised when Coach Dave Salo from the USC Trojans stops by. He pulls up the remaining chair, shaking all three of their hands and smiling at them.

 

“This table is taking home a lot of medals for the USA. You should all be very proud,” Dave says congratulating each of them. Eric laughs.

 

“You don’t have to butter me up, Coach. I already signed a lease for a two bedroom house a mile from campus,” he says with a tired smile. Dave laughs.

 

“What makes you think I’m still trying to butter you up, Shanteau?” he says with a grin. Then he fixes his eyes on Ricky. “Berens? You got a minute? I’d like a word with you.” He stands up out of his seat. Ricky frowns in confusion but stands up too.

 

“Um. I guess. Sure. I’ll be right back?” he says shooting significant looks to both Eric and Aaron. The two nod, watching him leave the dining room with the older man. They sit in silence, sharing confused looks every few seconds, and pretending not to worry. Ricky sits back down ten minutes later.

 

“Coach Salo said to give you his apologies. He had to go take care of something,” he says picking up his fork and attacking his plate. Both Aaron and Eric stare at him waiting for an explanation. Ricky laughs rolling his eyes. “He wanted to congratulate me on my swims, and doing well. He said that he thinks I’ll do good in London. That was all,” Ricky says. Eric and Aaron share a look across the table, and Eric kicks Ricky under the table cloth. “Ow. What?” he asks. Eric sighs.

 

“What else?” Eric asks. Ricky takes a deep breath putting down his fork.

 

“He just told me they might have an opening in their post grad program soon, and if I’m looking to switch trainers to keep them in mind.” He takes a drink of his wine, ignoring the intense looks being shot across the table. Aaron feels his stomach drop, and puts down his fork.

 

“He’s planning to steal you away to California too?” he asks. Eric frowns at the tone and the words, looking away from them both, picking at the remains of his dinner with his fork. Ricky sighs.

  
“No, Aaron. If he was serious he would have offered me a spot and talked about definite dates and funding. All the stuff they always bring up when they’re trying to poach someone. All he said was that I swam good and that I should keep them in mind if I _want_ to change training groups, which I don’t,” Ricky says, shaking his head. “It’s nothing to worry about. I doubt he’s serious. You don’t have anything to worry about,” he adds. He finishes his wine in one big gulp and sets the glass down harder than is really necessary. They finish dinner in a more subdued mood, none of them talking much, their earlier happiness fading away.

 

 

Later when they get upstairs to their floor, Ricky walks with Aaron and Eric to their door, but doesn’t follow them inside. Eric looks at him in confusion, turning back to catch the door when it nearly closes between them. Pulling it all the way open he steps back into the open doorway. Aaron plops down on one of the double beds, and looks over equally confused.

 

“Ricky?” Eric asks. Ricky smiles, leaning against the door jam.

 

“I think I should probably sleep in my room tonight. Dave’s been asking questions. Thinks I have a secret girlfriend. Besides,” he drops his voice down, leaning closer to Eric to continue. “I think you and Aaron need some alone time,” he explains. “He’s going to miss you.” Eric frowns shaking his head.

 

“And you’re not?” he asks. Ricky’s face falls. He steps into the room, pulling Eric further in too and letting the door close behind them.

 

“Of course I’m going to miss you. How can you even ask that?” he says. Eric shrugs.

 

“You’re acting like you aren’t going too,” Eric says crossing his arms over his chest. Ricky feels his chest tighten, with emotion.

 

“It’s killing me that you aren’t going to be with us anymore. But I can’t change that. I’m going to miss you every single day. I’m going to miss what the three of us are when we’re all together. But Aaron has been with you for almost three years, Eric. I’ve been with you for three months. That makes a difference!” Ricky says, his tone turning pained. Eric’s face softens.

 

“You think that means I love you less? That it’ll hurt less being away from you than being away from Aaron?” Eric asks. Ricky just stares at him. “Are you an idiot?” Eric asks, suddenly shouting. Ricky flinches away from him. Aaron’s there an instant later, tugging Eric back. Eric pulls out of Aaron’s grip, storming further into the room. He yanks his jacket off, throwing it into a chair across the room, before turning around with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. Aaron meanwhile gives Ricky a harsh look, getting shrugged shoulders and general confusion from Ricky in return. Offering a hand to the younger man, he pulls him further inside and shoves him down it sit on one of the beds. Leaving him there he approaches Eric. It’s hard to get his arms around the smaller man, but Aaron persists, and yanks him into a tight hug. Eric goes limp against him, not sure how to react. He buries his face in Aaron’s neck, his arms tightening around him.

 

“This sucks,” he whispers, voice breaking a little. Aaron nods.

 

“Yes it does. But the three of us turning on each other is only going to make this worse,” he says.

 

“I’m not turning on anyone,” Ricky says standing back up again. Aaron and Eric break apart, both turning to look at him. He frowns, refusing to let his tears fall, staring at the carpeted floor between the beds. “Look I know we all said that this was going to be equal, and that no one was going to be left out, but it doesn’t always feel that way. I haven’t been a part of this long enough for it to be equal. Not yet. You guys have a whole history that goes back years. You know each other’s mood with a single glance. I’m still learning that stuff. I’ve only been a part of this for a little while in comparison. That’s going to make a difference!” he says with conviction. “I’m not saying you guys are pushing me away or ignoring me, or don’t love me…” he pauses. “I’ve never felt this loved in my whole life, but I’m not stupid enough to think that I’m as ingrained in your daily lives as much as you are in each others.”

 

Eric and Aaron share a look, both turning to look back at Ricky, and not sure how to respond to what they both recognize as an undeniable truth. Ricky takes another deep breath. “This is going to be hard on all of us. But especially on the two of you. If we’re going to make this work, we have to be real about it. Eric is going off alone. Aaron and I are going to stay in Austin. That’s going to change the dynamic. It’s going to stress us all out. Challenge our whole relationship. But I…” here he blushes smiling a little and looking at Aaron, suddenly shy. “I’m kind of looking forward to getting to know Aaron better,” he confesses. Eric grins, nudging Aaron in the shoulder. Aaron smiles a huge embarrassed smile. “I just thought you guys might appreciate a night alone together. I didn’t mean to upset you, Eric, or imply I’m not going to miss you. I just thought you’d like one last night just the two of you. When we get home it’s going to be a mad dash to pack you up and move you across country.” Ricky isn’t done talking, but Aaron and Eric are done letting him lecture them. They close in on him one on either side, arms sliding around him and in a moment they’re in a three person hug. Ricky sighs, pressing closer against both of them.

 

“I appreciate the thought,” Aaron says quietly, one hand sinking into Ricky’s dark hair. “But we both want you here. Fuck what Dave thinks.” Ricky laughs picking his head up. Aaron grins at him. “You’re right. Things aren’t as equal as they should be. But I think we’re headed in the right direction. And you and I, we are gonna have to stick together. Blondie here is going to need support from both of us to get through this.” Ricky laughs nodding in agreement. Eric lets out an irritated huff.

 

“Blondie?” he asks, pulling out of the embrace. Ricky and Aaron both laugh, reaching out to tug him back into their bodies. He relents, curling back into their arms and sighing. “I’m going to miss this so much,” he says quietly. Ricky closes his eyes fighting back tears again.

 

“It’s only for a year,” he says. He ignores the way both Eric and Aaron clutch him just a little tighter at the words.

 

 

Part 2

 

It seems to take forever to get Eric packed up and ready to go. Ricky had moved into the house Aaron and Eric shared only a few weeks before Eric had been contacted by the coaches at USC, jumping at the chance as soon as his college roommate Dave had decided it was time to move in with his long term girlfriend. So the garage is still half full of all the furniture he’d brought with him. They’re suddenly thankful for the extra stuff. It means Eric can take a bunch of Ricky’s furniture with him when he moves and not have to buy all new to furnish the house in LA. The plan is for the three of them to drive out together. Eric driving his car, and Aaron and Ricky switching off driving the rented moving van and taking turns riding shot gun in Eric’s car.

 

They’ve all taken time off training to make the trek. The drive takes two days. They spend their one night on the road curled up exhausted in a motel room bed, clinging to each other like it’s their last night to be together ever. Ricky knows that’s not true. They’ll have one more night in LA before he and Aaron have to fly home to Austin.

 

Aaron loves the house Eric chose. He’s signed a one year lease on the place, and Aaron wishes they’d bought it instead. It’s beautiful. A two story beach house, close to the water, and to campus. The inner surfer in him loves the smell of salt and the cry of seagulls in the air. They unload the truck in one afternoon, assembling the bed in the bedroom, and getting most of the living room set up the way it needs to be. They leave Ricky, master technician, to set up the TV, while Aaron and Eric unpack the kitchen and then leave to return the truck. When they get back from buying groceries, they find Ricky passed out on Eric’s bed, his shoes kicked off, and his face pressed into the clean and newly applied sheets. Eric shares a look with Aaron, who shrugs his shoulders and strips off his t-shirt. Ricky wakes to Eric’s mouth on his, and Aaron’s hands sliding up the back of his t-shirt. He grins, blinking awake, and kissing back.

 

They make love slowly, all three of them being quiet, as if afraid of ruining the moment. Ricky sinks deep inside of Eric, and it’s like coming home. Eric arches up against Ricky, rocking his hips, and moaning with each flex and press of hips against his own. His eyes meet Ricky’s, his hands clutching at the younger man as Ricky comes deep and hot inside of him. Ricky pulls away leaving Eric hard and wanting, groaning a little and panting with need. Aaron doesn’t take his time. He presses into Eric with one long push that makes Eric cry out, and all of them are suddenly glad there are no neighbors close enough to possibly hear him. Eric’s face gets sweaty, his hands scrambling to find purchase on the mattress.

 

“Oh God,” he says, arching and panting under Aaron’s onslaught. Eric breaks apart under the study thrust of Aaron’s hips, coming with a loud cry and a full body spasm that has Ricky half hard again already. Aaron comes a few thrusts later, collapsing on Eric’s other side. None of them talk for a while. They lay in Eric’s new bedroom, on Ricky’s old bed, as the sun slowly sets for what seems like hours. Ricky closes his eyes and just lets himself feel. He hears Aaron and Eric murmuring to each other. Someone gets up from the bed but Ricky doesn’t react. Someone else brushes back his hair from his forehead, kissing his cheek softly. He turns into them, rolling closer, and hugging them tight. It’s Aaron he knows, just from the size and height of the body next to his. He turns his head into Aaron’s chest, and lets out one shuddering breath. The hands on his back tighten around him.

 

“Shh… It’s only for a year,” Aaron whispers. Ricky nods, clutching him tighter. He takes a deep breath and swallows back his tears. He wipes at his eyes hastily, and is smiling when Eric returns.

 

“I’m so mad at you two!” Eric says. He’s still naked, but he’s brought back into the room with him a box marked “bathroom” in Aaron’s big blocky handwriting. Ricky laughs, he sits his chin on Aaron’s right peck, and smiles up at Eric.

 

“How could you possibly be mad at us? I thought we were just pretty nice to you,” he says. Aaron laughs, and the sound rumbles through Ricky’s body. Eric rolls his eyes.

 

“Yes very nice. Perhaps too nice. I have practice tomorrow,” he says. “I’m going to be sore as hell. And I’m pretty sure one of you left bruises on my hips that my swim briefs won’t cover up. Thanks for that,” he disappears into the bathroom, and Aaron and Ricky both crack up, loudly in response. Eric sticks his head back into the bedroom, but he’s grinning. “I need to take a shower. Who wants to scrub my back?” he holds up a newly unpacked bath sponge. Ricky flings himself toward the bedroom door, but his forward momentum gets stopped by Aaron’s hand locking around his ankle and tugging him back onto the bed.

  
“Hey!” he shouts. Aaron laughs, and grabbing up the blanket from the floor wraps it around Ricky’s body. Ricky squirms in reaction, kicking out, but Aaron’s strong and he rolls him up in the blanket like a burrito. Then he shoves him off the bed and onto the floor between the bed-frame and the dresser. Ricky lets out a yell when he hits the floor, and fights to get out of his prison. The sound of pounding feet and a slamming door reach him just as he pokes his head out. “HEY!” he shouts. The sound of laughter resonates through the bathroom door. Ricky rolls his eyes, rolling in place to wiggle out of the blankets. The sound of the shower coming on has him fighting harder. 

 

Climbing to his feet Ricky scrambles across the room and pounds on the door to the bathroom.

 

“Guys!” he calls. He pounds again. There’s renewed laughter from behind the door. “Let me in!” he calls. A second later he hears the shower curtain being yanked back, metal rings scrapping across the pole.

 

“It’s not locked, Ricky!” Eric shouts over the sound of the water. Ricky freezes, and reaching for the knob gives it a gentle turn. The door opens and Ricky, red faced with embarrassment is met by the sight of two soapy wet professional swimmers, and the sound of their laughter. His hands come up to cover his face in mortification. “Well… are you coming?” Eric asks. Ricky lets his hands drop. They’ve stopped laughing but they’re both smiling. Eric’s standing in the middle of the bathtub, one big hand held out toward Ricky, Aaron standing half behind him, one arm wrapped around his waist. It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. Really, who could resist?

 

 

The next morning they’re all up earlier than they’d like to be. They eat breakfast together. And with one last make out session in the kitchen Ricky and Aaron kiss Eric goodbye, sending him off to his first training session at the USC pool. Watching his car drive away, Aaron reaches out for Ricky’s hand. Ricky grips it back, tugging him further into the house and into a hug.

 

“This is going to be hard on all of us. But especially on Eric. He’s the one in a new place. He’s the one who is going to be all alone,” Aaron says quietly. Ricky nods. He presses his face into Aaron’s shoulder, sighing.

 

“You and I, we have to be strong,” Ricky says softly. Aaron takes a deep breath and nods.

 

“But we’ll have each other. That’ll help,” he says pulling back. Ricky smiles.

 

“Let’s go home?” He says. Aaron nods again.

 

“Yes,” he says in agreement.

 

 

Things are different without Eric around every day, but somehow the same. Aaron and Ricky go to the pool. They practice,  and they hang out with Garrett and Dave, Scott and Michael, even Brendan and Ian, when they’re not too busy pretending to be retired grown-ups. They eat dinner together, fight over what to watch on TV, and have crazy amounts of sex with each other. On the weekends they go out to the lake, to the boat house, but it’s not as much fun without Eric, master of the wakeboard, there to show them how it’s done.

 

When their schedules allow, usually late evening Austin time, they talk to Eric. Sometimes separately sometimes together. He’s lonely in Los Angeles but working hard. He’s working with the best, racing against the best and getting better for it every day. Ricky makes a chart and hangs it on the wall in the kitchen. Aaron laughs himself silly the first time he sees it, sends a picture of it to Eric’s cell phone to share his mirth. It’s a chart showing Eric’s current best time in the 100 breast, and Kitajima’s (in other words: the world record) and all the space in between. Each time Eric’s time gets a fraction of a second closer, Ricky fills it in a notch, keeping careful track of his progress. It’s tangible visible proof that this was the right move for Eric and his career. It’s reassuring to see the progress, and it lessens the urge in Ricky to plead with Eric to just come home.

 

There’s a five year age difference between Aaron and Ricky. A difference never before so noticeable as since Eric left. Ricky knows Eric is only a few months younger than Aaron, but Eric generally, acts more like he’s Ricky’s age. Without the buffer between them there is a little more tension than usual. Aaron seems less tolerant of Ricky’s penchant for playing movies too loud, or investing 5 hours at a stretch in mastering a new video game. Ricky doesn’t understand why Aaron doesn’t want to stay up so late, and can’t consider French fries an acceptable dinner. Arguments over whose turn it is to take out the trash or do the dishes become a near weekly occurrence, until one night Ricky comes home early from freestyle practice and overhears Aaron talking to Eric. He walks up the hallway ready to take a shower, with a plan to perhaps convince Aaron to join him. But the door to their shared bedroom his half open and Aaron is stretched out on his back in the middle of their bed, his computer open next to him and Eric’s face beaming out at him through the magic of Skype.

 

“He’s not a kid, Aaron,” Eric says, voice slightly distorted. But he’s got that look on his face, Ricky can see even from his horrible angle, the indulgent look he always gives Ricky when he’s amused by him.

 

“I know he’s not a kid, Eric. I just wish he didn’t act like one all the time!” Aaron says back. Ricky frowns crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“You don’t really mean that. You’re just frustrated! You love that he’s so carefree!” Eric says with a laugh. “You guys have to learn how to balance without me there to play peacemaker. He needs to be less of a kid, and you need to be less of an old codger.” Ricky grins, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Aaron laughs too.

 

“I am an old codger!” he replies. “I’m 28 remember,” he asks. Eric scoffs.

 

“I’ll be 28 in less than 2 months! Does that mean I have to act all old and boring too?” he asks back. Aaron chuckles, shaking his head ‘no.’ “See! You both need to give a little. Part of the role I played was reminding Ricky to take out the trash and turn his music down, without sounding like a lecturing parent. And at other times distract you so you didn’t care if he was spending 6 hours playing marathon sessions of Halo 3. You both need to learn to deal without me there!” Aaron sighs.

 

“I really am in love with him,” he says softly. Eric smiles brightly, and Ricky swears the whole room almost lights up with the glow of it.

 

“I know you are. But you aren’t his dad. Because EWW… If chores are being a problem make a schedule. He’s great at following them, and it will show you trust him to remember to do his share of that stuff without being constantly reminded by you. If you want to, you can even institute a reward system. A whole week without missing a chore he gets a free blow job. You know how much he loves blow jobs!” Eric’s voice turns low and sexy. “I’d love it if you’d let me watch sometime. I miss watching him come. He does it so prettily!” Aaron’s laughter fills the bedroom, and Ricky shakes his head in amusement, half hard at just the tone of Eric’s voice.

 

“He does, doesn’t he?” Aaron says smiling at the computer. Eric nods, smiling at him.

 

“He loves you. And you love him. Whether I’m there or not, those two things will never change. Go easy on him, Aar, he’s still trying to adjust to a lot of things. Being out of school, turning pro, us, me being gone. And the pressure is getting worse week by week in the countdown to NEXT August. He needs us to both be there for him. I need you to be there for him.” Aaron nods.

 

“I know. I miss you. We miss you,” he says softly. Eric bites his lip, smiling suddenly turning a little bit shy.

 

“I miss you, too,” he says softly. He sits up more. “Love you!” he says with a big grin. Aaron smiles.

 

“Love you,” he glances at the alarm clock. “He should be home soon, want me to call you back when he gets home?” he asks. Eric nods. Ricky eases back around the corner and smiling makes his way back to the top of the stairs. He lopes up the hallway loudly calling Aaron’s name.

 

“Aaron?” he calls, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Aaron rolls over, smiling widely.

 

“Hey, Ricky,” he says with genuine happiness. Ricky feels his heart warm at the look on his face. He drops his bag by the door, flopping down beside Aaron on the bed. He leans over pressing a kiss to Aaron’s mouth.

 

“You lucked out getting the second half of practice off today!” he says smiling as he breaks the kiss. He turns to the computer, and seeing Eric’s face beaming out at him grins wide. “Eric!” he says with delight. He leans over Aaron’s body, to press a kiss to screen. Eric breaks out laughing. Aaron does too, hauling him back across the bed away from the computer.

 

“You’re going to leave lip marks all over my screen!” he says laughing. Ricky waves him off, diving back for the computer.

  
“I want to talk to Eric!” he says tugging out of Aarons grip again and again. Aaron finally relents, and the two of them end up lying side by side across the bed with the computer in front of them where they can both see it and Eric can see both of them.

 

Ricky smiles at the screen waving a little.

 

“How was your day?” he asks sort of out of breath from all the wrestling. Eric rolls his eyes.

 

“My day was just fine. How was yours?” he says. Ricky watches him lean toward the camera, resting his head in his hand.

 

“Practice was great! Ian dropped by again. I think he’s actually considering a comeback.” Eric rolls his eyes and Aaron laughs to his right. “What? It could happen? He’s still swimming regularly! He has a year,” he trails off at that. Reminded again of how long Eric would be living in LA. Eric smiles at him.

 

“It’s ok to talk about it you know,” he says. Ricky smiles.

 

“I know. I’m considering a new chart for the kitchen. Want to hear about it?” he asks. Aaron rolls onto his side, pressing closer, one arms sliding around Ricky’s waist. Ricky ignores him, pressing a little closer but not reacting. Eric nods.

 

“Yes please! The last one has been a raging success!” Eric proclaims. Ricky laughs, blushing a little.

 

“I was thinking of a calendar. A countdown of the days ‘til we see you next. Might make the days go faster, crossing them off as Nationals get closer.” Aaron’s hand slides up the back of the t-shirt, exposing his back to the air-conditioned air. His hand is warm and insistent against Ricky’s lower back. Ricky squirms a little in reaction, staring more intently at the computer screen. “What do you think?” he asks. Eric smiles knowingly.

 

“I think that’s a great idea,” he says in encouragement. Ricky smiles, trying to focus on Eric, but Aaron’s hand has other ideas, and eases under the waistband of his shorts. Ricky gasps, fighting back another sound, staring intently at the computer screen, determined to not react. Eric’s smile grows wider and that seems to be a cue of some kind. One of Aaron’s fingers teases at Ricky’s asshole, circling the flesh before slowly, gently pushing inside. Ricky’s eyes close as pleasure sings through his system. He groans, his dick hardening against the bed. He opens his eyes to see Eric watching them intently, his face flushing with arousal, and eyes glittering with want. That makes Ricky react.

 

“You planned this?” he says hoarsely. Aaron, sitting up beside him now, laughs. His hand moves, and suddenly Ricky’s got two dry fingers pressing deep. “Ahh…” he chokes out at the burn, his hips shifting against the mattress. Aaron leans down then, his mouth pressing to the side of Ricky’s neck, lips wet and hot against his flushed skin.

 

“For Eric?” he says softly, nipping at Ricky’s ear. Ricky sighs nodding his head. Aaron grins again sitting back up and moving to kneel over Ricky’s thighs. He pulls his hand from Ricky’s pants, rearranging him across the bed to give Eric a better view. Ricky goes pliant, wanting this to be good for Eric.

 

“The laptop?” he questions pushing himself up. He smiles into the camera, at Eric, moving the laptop to sit on the bedside table. “Good?” he asks. Eric nods, looking aroused and very very interested in the proceedings. Ricky smiles at him. “We love you,” he says quietly.  Eric nods.

 

“I love you, both of you,” he says back. Ricky grins, turning on the bed to face Aaron. Aaron smiles at him, kissing him softly, hands tugging his shirt up and off. Ricky complies, sliding Aaron’s shirt up and off too. His hands slide down Aaron’s chest, and around his sides.

 

“Gonna fuck me? For Eric?” he asks softly. Aaron kisses him again, teeth tugging at Ricky’s bottom lip.

 

“Gonna make love to you, for all three of us,” Aaron says, pressing him back into the bed. Ricky nods, licking his lips.

 

“Ok,” he says, his hands unbuttoning Aaron’s jeans, to push the constricting material down. Aaron kicks the jeans away, pulling Ricky’s underwear and shorts off in one well rehearsed motion.

 

They never forget Eric’s there watching. They’re doing this partly for him, as much as they are for each other, so they’re careful not to turn their backs to the laptop, to talk too quietly. The usual banter starts up like it always does, and it’s reassuring to hear Eric’s voice, distorted though it is, laughing in amusement at their usual quips.

 

It’s Ricky, as usual, who moves things along. He reaches for the drawer under the laptop, retrieving the tube of lube that’s always there. He’s back a second later, smiling at Eric, before rolling up onto all fours, and offering Aaron the tube.

 

“You usually want it on your back,” Aaron says in confusion. He kneels behind Ricky on the bed, slicking up one finger and then another. Ricky laughs. He strains to look back over his shoulder at Aaron, smiling at him.

 

“Eric can see better this way,” he says. “See both our faces…” he adds. Eric hums from the other end of the connection. Ricky’s eyes focus on him. The view behind Eric has changed, suddenly. Eric’s walking down the hall, headed for the bedroom. Ricky feels a flash of heat go through his system. He’s never been so grateful for the wireless router he’d installed in Eric’s house then he is in that moment. He looks back at Aaron. “I want you,” he says, reaching for Aaron’s hand. Aaron gives it to him and Ricky pulls the long arm around his waist, Aaron’s body presses all along his back, and his lips follow the long curve of Ricky’s neck. He leans down to place a sucking kiss on Ricky’s shoulder blade, directly over his Olympic Rings tattoo.

 

“Ok,” Aaron says, nodding. He pulls reluctantly away, kneeling behind Ricky who pushes himself back up onto all fours. By then Eric’s made his way to the bedroom, and stretched himself out on the bed. He puts the laptop beside him, propping his head up in one hand. At some point he’s removed his own t-shirt, and Ricky’s mouth goes a little dry at the expanse of Eric’s naked chest on display. Eric grins at them.

 

“Please do carry on,” Eric says with a little hand flourish. Ricky and Aaron both laugh, shaking their heads. With no more ceremony, Aaron presses two slick fingers inside of Ricky. His whole body rocks with the invasion. “OH,” Eric whispers. “That felt good, didn’t it?” he says with a smile. Ricky nods, suddenly unable to speak, as Aaron moves the fingers out and then in again, the tips of his fingers just brushing Ricky’s prostate. He groans. “He’s so good at that,” Eric breathes. There’s a hitch in his breathing that has Ricky’s eyes flying open. Eric’s head is tilted back on his pillow, his left hand reaching back around behind himself, and Ricky suddenly knows exactly what he’s doing with his own fingers. “You have to tell me, Ricky,” Eric says quietly, opening his eyes to look directly into the camera. Ricky’s gasps. “Tell me, so I can play along,” Eric says with a devious little smile. Ricky groans.

 

“You’re touching yourself!?” he says in disbelief. Aaron’s fingers freeze inside of Ricky’s ass, his focus shifting back to the computer. Eric nods.

 

“Yes,” he says simply. Aaron’s breathing stutters out in one long moan. Ricky laughs, clenching down around Aaron’s fingers.

 

“Touch me, Aaron!” he pleads. He presses his hips back and Aaron nods. He bends down pressing a kiss to Ricky’s shoulder. He pulls his body back reaching out to adjust the angle of the screen just a fraction, then he pulls his hand back and presses deep in quick succession. Ricky moans.

 

“Deep, oh that one went so deep. Two.. two fingers,” he says, moaning a little, his breathing shallow. Eric echoes his groan, panting right along with him. Aaron grins, rotating his hand, and pressing in again. He listens to Ricky’s stuttered recitation of his actions, getting harder and harder with every little moan and flex of hips. Eric pants on the computer screen, forehead beading with sweat as he echoes their actions, pressing long fingers up inside his own body. Aaron knows how to play this. Knows Eric is one of the few men who can come without having their dick touched, if he’s touched just the right way in other places. He knows Ricky is not, but that doesn’t mean they can’t get Eric off in the process.

 

He sets up a steady rhythm, with his fingers, one he knows from experience that Eric is quite fond of, watching Eric adapt to it masterfully from two states away. He flicks his wrist, fingers moving quickly and fluidly inside of Ricky making him moan out loud. Eric echoes it, duplicating the move more from memory than from Ricky’s half incomprehensible explanation. Aaron grins, watching Ricky’s flushed face, and rocking hips for several moments, before turning his gaze to Eric’s face in the computer. Aaron leans closer to Ricky.

 

“Ready?” he asks quietly. Ricky nods, a bit frantically. Aaron presses a kiss to his cheek, pulling back to a kneeling position. He watches Ricky take a deep breath, timing his next action to a long exhale. He pulls his hand back adding a third finger to the mix before pressing back inside.

 

“Oh!” Ricky shouts, his body trembling all over, and rocking forward with a sudden urgency. Eric gasps loudly.

 

“Three?” he whispers, brokenly. Ricky nods.

 

“Oh, Eric!” he calls out, letting his head fall to rest on his crossed hands, chest heaving with each thrust of Aaron’s fingers. Eric groans, and Aaron knows he’s done the same, added a third finger. The pleasure on his face doubles, and he groans again, louder.

 

“Aaron?!” he gasps. “Ricky! Oh, God!” he pants, and Aaron grins, his free hand gripping Ricky’s hip tightly in anticipation. “Fuck!” Eric whispers, his back bowing as he orgasms. Eric grunts, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open and gasping for air. They watch with rapt attention as Eric comes down, his hand still moving inside of himself. He stops slowly, pulling his hand away and collapsing across his bed, with a flushed heaving chest, and a huge smile. His breathing begins to calm, and he sits up a little turning to the laptop. “Aaron?” he pants, smiling devilishly. “Fuck Ricky for me would you?” he asks. “He’s gotta be desperate for it by now,” he props his head back up, his other hand pushing back his sweatly bangs, and reaching forward to readjust the angle of the laptop screen. Aaron smiles widely, turning his full attention back to Ricky.

 

Ricky rocks back against his hand, still moving deep inside of him. He’s flushed red all over, almost painfully hard, his erection visible for all of them to see. He’s making a quiet eh eh eh sound with every push of Aaron’s fingers and for a moment Aaron wonders if maybe he’s been wrong this whole time. That maybe Ricky could come from this alone, if Aaron or Ricky showed enough patience. But now is not the time for that. Ricky’s groaning with every twitch of Aaron’s fingers, his hands clenching white knuckled around one of their poor pillows. He’s closed his eyes, unable to look at either of them, lost in his own pleasure. Aaron smirks at Eric, getting a smirk in return, he uses his free hand to slick his erection, moving close up behind the younger man. He stops his hand’s gentle rocking, pulling the fingers out and away. Ricky makes a sudden keening sound at the loss making Aaron smile.

 

“Shh.. Shh. Ricky it’s ok,” he whispers, wrapping one arm around Ricky’s middle. Ricky groans, hips still rocking with need. Aaron stills them with one hand, reaching down to guide himself inside. He’s hard as a brick, and it takes only one long hot thrust to sink deep. Ricky cries out with want.

 

Eric watches with wide eyes as Aaron presses inside, and Ricky’s body comes alive. His head bows back, neck bared to cry out with each thrust. Aaron’s arms slide around him, his lips covering every available inch of Ricky’s skin with affection. He kisses across his back, down his shoulders, up his throat. He lets one hand slide down to circle Ricky’s erection, moving his hips in a long, hard thrust that he knows won’t let either of them last very long. Ricky cries out again, rocking back into each thrust, and clenching down around Aaron’s erection.

 

“Aaron,” he pants. “Oh please, Aaron!” he begs. Aaron nods, shooting Eric a significant look. Eric nods. Aaron takes a deep breath. He presses his deep, sliding both his arms around Ricky’s middle. Stilling the rocking of his hips, he sits up straight, bringing Ricky’s body up into a kneeling position right along with him. Ricky groans, his weight shifting backward into Aaron’s lap. Aaron sinks deep and Ricky shakes with the new angle. One of his hands, goes back behind himself to pull Aaron closer, The other goes down to grip Aaron’s hand pressing hotly to his belly. “Please…” he whispers, brokenly, unable to say anything more. He pushes at the hand on his abs, pressing it insistently down. Aaron chuckles, and reaches down to grip Ricky’s dick. He kisses up Ricky’s neck, hand tightening around Ricky’s erection, and moving once, twice, twisting down the length. Ricky howls, shaking apart in Aaron’s arms. He sobs out his orgasm, going pliant and limp in Aaron’s arms. He pants for air, eyes closed against the waves of pleasure moving through his body. Aaron smiles, letting himself go. He thrusts twice more before coming inside of the younger man’s ass. He pants, catching his own breath before pulling carefully out of Ricky, and letting him fall down to curl up on the bed in exhaustion.

 

Resting against Ricky’s side, Aaron curls one thigh up over Ricky’s and turns a smile toward the laptop. Eric’s watching them with drowsy eyes, curled on his side in front of his own computer. He blinks slowly at Aaron, smiling softly.

 

“I love you,” he says waving a little. Aaron smile stretches out into a grin.

 

“I love you,” he says back. Eric bites his lips, his eyes shifting down. Ricky groans. He waves a hand toward the laptop.

 

“Love you,” he mumbles, pressing back into Aaron’s body behind him. Eric laughs on the screen.

 

“I love you too, Ricky, get some sleep. I’ll call you after morning practice!” Ricky nods, eyes still closed.

 

“Night, Eric,” he says. Eric shakes his head.

 

“Talk to you tomorrow, Aaron. Good night,” he says. Aaron waves at the camera.

 

“Night, Eric,” he says. He watches Eric disconnect the call, and reaches over to close the laptop. Ricky moves further into him, turning around to press his face to Aaron’s shoulder.

 

“Love you, Aar,” Ricky mumbles. Aaron tugs the blanket up over them, holding Ricky close.

 

“I love you, Ricky,” he says quietly. Ricky sighs, already asleep. Aaron laughs quietly reaching over to turn out the bedside light. He figures in an hour or so Ricky will wake up horribly hungry and they can order dinner in from somewhere. It’s Aaron’s turn to make dinner, but he finds himself disinclined to leave the bed just then.

 

 

Things get better between Ricky and Aaron after that. Ricky makes an effort to pay more attention around the house, to ask Aaron what he wants to do on their rare evenings off. Aaron in contrast goes easier on Ricky when it comes to chores, and treats Ricky like the grown-up he is. And though they both miss Eric so much that it’s like a punch in the gut when they let themselves really feel it, there’s a comfort knowing the other person is there. That they feel the exact same away you do, that they miss Eric just as much. They’re closer than ever before.

 

Ricky likes sleeping tucked up against Aaron’s side, one long arms pulling him back against Aaron’s broad chest. He likes feeling small in comparison to someone else. Little things he doesn’t usually notice like the smell of Aaron’s cologne, or the sound of his breathing while he sleeps, are suddenly so much more noticeable without Eric there taking up half of Ricky’s attention. Aaron’s a genuinely nice guy, something Ricky’s always known but not necessarily noticed before. He honestly cares about almost every aspect of Ricky’s life. It shows in the way he always asks about Ricky’s brother and sister or parents, unintentionally or perhaps intentionally reminding Ricky to call them, or hands Ricky the phone to talk to Eric when he’s had a bad day in the pool, without missing a beat.

 

Aaron similarly notices subtle little things about Ricky. Ricky’s smart, smart like Eric is only not as obviously. He knows practically all the answers on Jeopardy, but he says them quietly, as if he’s not expecting anyone to notice. Ricky loves music, and what Aaron always thought was probably just noise echoing through Ricky’s ears half the time, is actually pretty good music. He’s also loyal. The Longhorns tat on Ricky’s left ribcage is not just school or team pride. It’s part of who Ricky is on a fundamental level, which Aaron can absolutely appreciate and admire.

 

But more than all the little things they suddenly find themselves appreciating about each other there is one thing that neither they, nor Eric can deny, that after a solid month without Eric there bringing them together all the time, the two of them have managed to fall completely head over heels in love with each other. Ricky likes coming home to Aaron every night, fighting him for blankets, and the best spot on the couch. He likes sitting with him late at night when neither of them can sleep playing video games, while Aaron reads a book. He likes going to the lake with him, the two of them driving the boat around in laps, not even bothering to pull out the wakeboard. Instead they just lather each other up with sunscreen and drive, enjoying the sun and the heat and the water.

 

So The Offer kind of sends them all for a loop. It appears in the mailbox the last week of September. A large envelope baring Ricky’s name and a return address in Los Angeles. The USC Trojans logo huge and accusing across the back. Aaron doesn’t say anything when he finds it tucked in between the new Splash magazine and a mailer for the local grocery store. He freezes when he sees it, turning it over and seeing the familiar insignia. His hands slow, as he puts it to the side, turning back to the rest of the mail. He sorts the bills out, and the junk-mail, puts aside a letter from his own sister. And tries to ignore the thick maroon and gold envelope. In reaction he sets Ricky’s cell-phone bill on top, and then the bill for his car payment, trying to cover as much of its brightly colored surface as possible.

 

Ricky gets home 20 minutes later.

 

“Aaron!” he calls, slamming the door too hard, just like always. Aaron’s face lights up, even as he shakes his head, and calls out to the younger man.

 

“Dining room!” He’s got his checkbook out, a pile of bills opened and spread out before him. Ricky steps into the dining room wearing a huge grin.

 

“Hey,” he says in greeting, stepping close. “What cha doing?” he asks, squeezing in between Aaron and the table to sit in the other man’s lap. Aaron laughs.

 

“Paying bills,” he says, stating the obvious. Ricky makes a face, turning in Aaron’s lap to press a kiss to his face.

 

“But that’s boring,” he says with a doe-eyed expression that Aaron doesn’t buy for a second.

 

“What would you rather do?” he asks, hands sliding around Ricky, to tug him closer. Ricky grins, the boyish grin that so often gets him exactly what he wants.

 

“I want to talk to you about Eric’s birthday. It’s next week and I thought that maybe we could do a little something special,” Ricky explains. Aaron is aware of the coming birthday. It’s been part of his mental calendar for years now, since long before he and Eric ever became a couple.

 

“What were you thinking?” he asks, letting one hand sneak under the edge of Ricky’s blindingly orange Longhorns t-shirt. Ricky squirms, capturing his hand, and turning in his lap, to sit astride Aaron’s thighs. He smirks a little.

 

“You know the night we had the Skype sex?” he asks. He reaches out to trace Aaron’s collarbone through the open collar of his shirt. Aaron laughs, and Ricky’s eyes follow the motion of his Adam’s apple with rapt fascination.

 

“Of course I do. It was extremely hot,” he says. Ricky grins again, showing off two rows of even white teeth.

 

“Well I thought we could do that again. Eric seemed to really enjoy it last time. Only this time, maybe I could fuck you?” he explains. Aaron bites his lower lip to avoid saying something that would get him into trouble. Thinking carefully he decides on what to say.

 

“Sounds like a plan,” he says. Ricky’s eyes fly up to meet his own, and Aaron smiles softly. “You know you’re welcome to do that any time you want. It’s not only for special occasions. You don’t have to ask for permission,” he says. Ricky blushes, his nose wrinkling up with embarrassment.

 

“I like that we don’t do it that way too often. Makes it more special when we do. You know?” he asks. Aaron nods, and brings his hands up to cradle the back of Ricky’s head, leaning forward to take Ricky’s mouth in a kiss. Ricky hums against his lips, wrapping long tan arms around Aaron’s neck and pressing his whole body closer. Aaron’s mouth opens, inviting Ricky’s tongue in to play, and Ricky’s whole body surges against his. Ricky breaks the kiss to pant.

 

“Hey, want to go do an undressed rehearsal of Eric’s birthday present?” he asks, hands unbuttoning the front of Aaron’s shirt. Aaron chuckles; shaking his head.

 

“I’d love too, but I’m in the middle of paying these bills. If I stop now, I’ll forget what I’ve done and what I haven’t. Can you give me 20 minutes?” he asks. Ricky sighs, but finishes unbuttoning the shirt anyway, he pulls the two sides apart, pressing a kiss to the skin above Aaron’s heart. He nods.

 

“Of course. Responsible grown up things have to come first!” he says teasingly. He climbs up out of Aaron’s lap, plopping down in the chair beside him at the table. “Any mail come for me?” he asks. Aaron nods, his hands unclenching from his sides, to reach for the stack of mail he’d put aside for Ricky. Ricky scoops it up, standing again. “See you in 20 minutes?” he asks, grabbing up an apple from the bowl in the center of the table. Aaron nods, unable to look at the younger man. Ricky bends down pressing a kiss to Aaron’s cheek, before taking an audible bite of the apple, and leaving the room, mail tucked under one arm. Aaron folds his hands in front of himself on the table, bows his head, and tries hard not to shake.

 

Ricky’s back 10 minutes later. He’s pale, moving slowly, hesitantly, a stack of papers in his hands, and that same gaudy maroon envelope shoved under his arm.

 

“Aaron, I know you said you needed 20 minutes, but I need to talk to you.”

 

Aaron tries very hard to not throw up.

 

Part 3

 

The deal is good. Incredible really. Full training costs, moving expenses, and partial living expenses covered. The offer includes a promise of top pick of any offered endorsement contracts, and the promise of flexibility with his schedule. In return USC wants him to come swim with the Trojans. To practice and train in their pool, wear their cap at the National meets leading up to and including Olympic Trials, and to generally endorse the school and their swimming program. Aaron doesn’t know what to tell Ricky. Doesn’t know what to say or not say. So instead he takes a deep breath and stands up. Bending down he presses a chaste kiss to Ricky’s forehead.

 

“The Longhorns will miss you,” he says quietly, before turning and leaving the room. Ricky sits in shock not knowing how to react. It takes about 30 seconds for him to realize just what Aaron has said and what it means. He leaves the papers spread out across the table, chasing after the other man.

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he says angrily. Aaron’s in the laundry room, folding the warm linens as he pulls them from the dryer. He shrugs his shoulders.

 

“It means it’s a phenomenal deal. I know you need more sponsors, I know you need more help with funding. You’re barely staying afloat as it is, between your student loans, and training costs, living expenses, your car. The program in LA is great. Their free squad is almost as good as their breast squad. Eric’s there. Money’s there. A good training program is there. You need to go. And you can’t tell me you don’t _want_ to go…” he says trailing off. Ricky stares at him in horror.

 

“That doesn’t mean I’m just going to just run off without any consideration at all! I don’t know what I want. I live here. You’re here. Austin and YOU, this house, is home. I’m a fucking Longhorn. I bleed orange. I’m not about to go to USC without a damn good reason, and money and endorsements are not a good enough reason!” Ricky yells. Aaron flinches.

  
“Eric’s a good enough reason! You and I both know that! This is the perfect excuse for you to move out there. I know you miss him! That it breaks your heart to not be with him every day,” Aarons says back, turning away, back to the pile of towels he’s folding. Ricky shakes his head.

 

“It breaks your heart too. Don’t pretend like it doesn’t!” he says angrily. Aaron freezes.

 

“That’s not what this is about,” he says calmly.

 

“It’s a factor. You’re so ready to just ship me off to California, like there’s no other possible option! Why?” he asks. Aaron’s hands clench on the edge of the dryer. Ricky takes deep calming breaths. “Aaron... Why?” he asks. Aaron feels his stomach twist.

 

“Because he’s alone. He’s out there all by himself. If you can go be with him, if it would be better for your career to swim for USC, then how can I possibly try and get you to stay? If you’re there and he’s there, than at least I know you’re together and doing what’s best for your futures,” he says it softly, but the words echo in Ricky’s head as if Aaron had shouted them. He steps up behind Aaron, sliding his arms around the other man’s waist, hugging him tight.

 

“Then why don’t you come out there with us?” he says softly. Aaron takes a deep shuddering breath.

 

“Because they don’t want _me_. My career is here. My life is here,” he says softly.

 

“Why can’t Eric and I be your life?” Ricky asks. And it’s such a childish question that Aaron almost laughs out loud. But the sincerity in it stops him.

 

“Would you give up swimming for Eric and me?” Aaron asks. Ricky freezes. Aaron nods. “It’s not an easy thing to do… to give up something you’ve worked your whole life for, because of love. Even if it’s twice the love other men get to have,” Aaron says quietly. “Besides, it’s only for a year.” Ricky is really beginning to hate those words.

 

 

They don’t discuss it again. And if they cling to each other a little more tightly than usual at night they don’t discuss that either. Ricky starts locking himself in the guest room with his laptop and Skyping Eric for hours at a time every day. Aaron does his best to ignore Ricky’s red eyes, and appreciates the fact that Eric doesn’t bring it up in their own conversations. Aaron only knows Ricky’s made the final decision when Eddie Reese walks up to him after practice three days later, scowling.

 

“USC going to poach you next?” Eddie asks, hands on his hips. Aaron wipes chlorine out of his eyes.

 

“Why, no coach, they’re not. I guess I’m not the kind of talent they’re lacking out in LA. Sure would be nice if the offer was made though. It would be nice to be appreciated for a change,” Aaron snaps in reply, draping his towel over his head, and walking away.

 

 

The next day Aaron gets home from practice to find Ricky sitting in the middle of the living room floor surrounded by boxes, and a bewildered look on his face. He looks up at Aaron standing in the door way and his expression is so lost, that Aaron sighs caving in.

 

“You don’t have to do this now,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. Ricky pulls his knees up to his chest.

 

“Yes I do, Coach Salo wants me in LA end of next week. That gives me three weeks to train before Nationals,” he says, rubbing at his eyes with defeat. Aaron freezes.

 

“Oh.. Ok,” he says softly. “Well we should get you organized then. You’re just taking Betsy?” Aaron asks, referring to Ricky’s car. He kneels down next to the DVD drawer and starts pulling out the box-sets of Family Guy and Dexter, stacking them in the nearest box. Ricky nods.

 

“Eric wants me to stay at the house, so I don’t need any furniture,” Ricky explains. He sits down at the other end of the entertainment center to go through the game drawer. Neither of them speak for a while, beyond Aaron holding up a DVD or CD to ask if Ricky wants to take it, and Ricky’s single syllable answers. 20 minutes after they start, Ricky turns where he’s sitting to face Aaron.

 

“Are you mad at me?” he asks quietly. Aaron drops a pile of CDs into the half full box and sighs.

 

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” he says. He pushes the box aside, crawling across the living room carpet to sit next to Ricky. He slides his arm around him, tugging him close. Ricky leans against him, tilting to the side and going a little bit limp.

 

“It feels like you’re mad at me,” Ricky says quietly. Aaron takes a deep breath.

 

“I just wish things could be different is all. I’m not mad at you,” he explains. His arm tightens around Ricky. “I’m going to miss you,” he adds. Ricky nods, turning his head to kiss Aaron. Aaron adjusts his grip on Ricky, opening his mouth to Ricky’s tongue. Ricky kisses him deep, turning his body into Aaron’s, his arms sliding around Aaron’s shoulders to hug him tight. Breaking the kiss he buries his face in Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron carefully does not acknowledge the wet spot on his t-shirt later.

 

 

Saturday is Eric’s birthday. He gets home late that night, the guys on the team having dragged him out to a bar for a drink after Saturday afternoon practice. The team had not really believed him about his intolerance for alcohol until he’d had half a bottle of beer and started giggling at anything that was said which was even remotely suggestive. They’d sort of rolled their eyes at him and let him sit in the corner of the booth nursing his one drink for an hour or so before someone had driven him home. The guy had smiled a bit indulgently at his wavering gate to the car, but his designated driver had still mumbled something about “pansy-ass East Coast boys” and their “complete inability to drink like real men” about halfway back to Eric’s place. Eric had wanted to say something mean about California boys, but it felt wrong somehow to even think it when Aaron was at heart a SoCal beach bum. When he gets home he’s still a teeny tiny bit tipsy. But he hurries to his bedroom, stripping off his sweatshirt and grabbing up his laptop.

 

Booting it up and turning Skype on, he checks to see who is online. Seeing Ricky’s name, his face lights up. Within 60 seconds they’ve both got Skype running and he see’s Ricky’s smiling face beaming out at him from his laptop screen.

 

“Hey!” Ricky says waving a little. Eric sets the laptop down beside him, curling up around a pillow to stare at Ricky.

 

“Hi,” he says back. Ricky laughs a little and Eric feels his stomach do a little flip. It was silly the things you missed when you were far away from a lover. Right that moment Eric was missing Ricky’s laughter more than just about anything else about the younger man’s presence. When Ricky laughs he does it with his whole body. And if you were lucky enough to be pressed all against him when he does it, the vibrations hum right through him and into you like a low grade electric current, warming you from the inside. It sounds good too.

 

“Happy Birthday!” Ricky says, his grin huge. Eric laughs in reply.

 

“Thanks! How was your day?” he asks, biting his lips. He’s not sure what response he’s going to get. He knows how tense things are in Austin. The team had not taken the news of Ricky’s impending change of training program very well. Muttering and general discontent were common themes at his last few practices. Ricky shrugs, his smile dimming a little bit.

 

“Practice was ok. Not great but ok. I cleaned out my locker,” he makes a face as he says it, like it feels weird. It had been his locker for over 5 years now. Eric knows the exact feeling. Eric grins at him, lighting up a little.

 

“That’s ok. I snagged you the one next to mine,” he teases. Ricky shakes his head.

 

“I don’t want the locker next to yours! Your gym shoes reek! I don’t want all my gear smelling like Shanteau feet!” he protests, but the smile on his face lets Eric know he’s teasing. He rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh please, you love my feet!” he replies. Ricky laughs in response breaking the charade, and making the whole laptop shake with his mirth. They both fall silent a minute, just staring at each other through the power of technology. “How’s Aaron?” Eric asks quietly. Ricky looks down taking a steadying breath before continuing.

 

“Ok, I think. He says he’s not mad at me, but…” Ricky shakes his head, shrugging. He looks back at the screen. “I’m so excited about getting to see you every day, but at the same time it means I won’t get to see him every day. Sometimes I wish we could all go back to April, and the boat house. Things were complicated then, but not like they are now,” he says quietly. Eric sighs. He knows the feeling. He scrubs a hand through his short blond hair.

 

“He’s strong Ricky. We all are. We’ll get through this. I know we will. I’m not willing to give up either of you. Not now. Not ever, if I have my way!” he says sincerely. “Besides it’s only for a year! Less than really!” Ricky nods, before his head swivels around to the right at some sound off camera that Eric hasn’t quite heard. Eric watches Ricky’s face, watches his whole being light up and he knows, _knows_ that Aaron has just walked into the room. He’s sure of it, even before Ricky calls out to him, waving him over.

 

“Aaron!” he calls. “You’re home. Did you stop for milk?” he asks. Eric hears Aaron’s voice answer with a faraway and slightly sarcastic “Yes, Dear,” before Ricky shifts the laptop, leaning up to kiss Aaron hello. He’s got a perfect view of the kiss, of their heads tilting, and their mouths meeting. The camera on the laptop is tilted up, and he has an amazingly perfect angle to see their jaws opening, to see their mouths working against each other. He smiles as he watches. They’re so good together, so right with each other. He loves getting to see it, even if it’s from several states away. Though really up close and in person was much more enjoyable. Because then he got to jump into the middle and experience them both first hand.

 

Aaron breaks the kiss, and he smiles at Ricky when he does so; like seeing Ricky is the highlight of his day so far. Eric watches Aaron glance down, catching sight of his smiling face on the computer screen. He waves hello, seeing the grin double in size on Aaron’s face. That’s a great feeling; knowing he helped to cause that particular smile.

 

“Hey you!” Aaron says. He’s leaning over the back of the couch behind Ricky.

 

“Aar!" he says in greeting, watching Aaron disappear from view, only to reappear after flopping down beside Ricky on the couch. Ricky shifts closer, turning the laptop so that both of them are in the shot. Aaron’s arm slides around Ricky shoulders, pulling him a fraction of an inch closer.

 

“Happy Birthday!” Aaron says, he studies Eric’s face a minute, before his jaw drops. “Ohhh... you’ve been drinking!” Aaron accuses pointing at the screen. Eric rolls onto his back a little giggling a bit. Ricky’s mouth opens in surprise.

 

“No!” he objects, leaning toward the screen for a closer look. Aaron nods, still pointing.

 

“Check it out: flushed cheeks, quick to laugh, though really those could be considered normal Eric traits, but when compiled with the droopy hair spikes, and the sort of glassy eyes, you get only one logical conclusion!” Aaron explains, looking at Ricky. Ricky nods.

 

“Tipsy. You’re tipsy Eric Shanteau! In the middle of the afternoon!” he replies. Eric shakes his head.

 

“It’s technically the evening, and I’m only a little bit tipsy. You should have seen me an hour ago. Now, THAT was tipsy!” he says, smiling for the camera. Aaron leans his head back in amusement. Ricky sits back against him, curled close. The look so cozy that for a moment Eric wishes more than anything else in the world that he was there pressed up against them watching TV, that there was nothing keeping him from being with them. But that was useless thinking. He shakes his head. “Besides it’s my Birthday. You’re allowed to get tipsy on your Birthday. It’s a rule!” he says with a cheeky smile. They both laugh.

 

“Did you have a good birthday?” Ricky asks. Eric nods and curls up further on his side toward the laptop.

 

“Pretty good. It’s been a whole lot better since I got to talk to you guys,” he says. Aaron’s eyes crinkle at the corners with the size of his smile.

 

“And we haven’t even given you your present yet!” he replies. Eric’s head perks up a little.

  
“Present?” he asks. Ricky nods, smiling at Aaron, before climbing up off the couch with the laptop in his hands. Eric follows along as they walk through the house. When the laptop gets plopped down on the nightstand Eric feels himself starting to get hard in his boxers. He knows what will be coming next, or at least he has an idea.

 

He watches intently as the two of them climb onto the bed. Aaron stretches out on his back, Ricky climbing up to straddle his lap. Aaron smiles up at him, letting his hands push up Ricky’s baggy t-shirt, stripping it up and off. He sits up, his arms wrapping around Ricky, pulling Ricky’s body in to his. His head ducks down, and he presses his lips to Ricky’s throat, kissing down and across the tops of his pecks, and licking the flowing curves of his collarbones. Ricky throws his head back and laughs, his hands bracing against Aaron’s shoulders. He leans down to capture Aaron’s mouth, his own hands sliding down the other man’s back to grip the bottom of his t-shirt. He tugs it off, breaking the kiss to pull it over Aaron’s head, Aaron’s arms going up into the air to slide it free. Ricky tosses it aside, off the other side of the bed. Eric is sure there’s a pile forming back there. Neither Ricky nor Aaron ever thinks to check there on laundry day. Thoughts of laundry fly out of Eric’s head quickly. Ricky rocks in Aaron’s lap, both of them groaning. Aaron’s hands go to work on Ricky’s jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping the restricting denim. He pushes at the cloth, Ricky kneeling up to help get the jeans and his boxers down over the curve of his ass. Ricky groans, leaning down to bite at Aaron’s shoulder, as hands grip his ass, squeezing and kneading. Aaron sucks a small mark on Ricky’s neck, just below his ear. It’ll be small, barely noticeable the next day. Eric hopes it’s still there when Ricky gets to California. He wants to suck that same spot and feel Ricky shiver and know he’s remembering this moment with Aaron.

 

Eric watches as Ricky shakes his head as if clearing a fog and kisses Aaron again, his arms winding around his neck, hands gripping Aaron’s hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other. The kiss continues, Ricky squirming half undressed against Aaron’s dick until the older man can’t take it anymore. Eric sees the move, anticipated it before it happens, but Ricky is visibly surprised. One second he’s on top kissing Aaron and slowly rocking in his lap and the next Aaron’s rolled them over and Ricky finds himself looking up at Aaron in shock. Aaron grins, tugging Ricky’s jeans down and off his long legs, hands trailing up calves and knees and thighs to rest on slim hips and a lean chest. Aaron smiles, leaning down to kiss Ricky again.

 

That’s when things shift. Eric watches the mood change without either of them saying a word. Ricky’s hands turn a little desperate as he fights to get Aaron’s jeans undone and shoved down. Aaron’s mouth turns sucking and aggressive against Ricky’s, their breathing speeding up and growing harsher. Ricky bites at Aaron’s lips, grunting against him, and hiking one leg up higher on Aaron’s newly bared hip. Aaron wastes no time spreading lube across his fingers and starting to prepare Ricky. Ricky groans, hips moving into Aaron’s hand, pressing down hard at the push of long fingers inside. He gasps, muscles tightening when Aaron presses against that perfect bump of his prostate. Aaron flicks his wrist pressing it again and again. Two fingers and he’s ready. Eric swallows thickly, watching intently as Aaron shifts up onto his knees more fully, his left hand sliding around to pull up on Ricky’s thigh. Eric watches Aaron’s cock sink inside of Ricky. The younger man keens with the invasion, head thrown back and sweat breaking out across his skin. Aaron readjusts his position. He pulls Ricky’s other leg up and out of the way, putting a stretch and pull on Ricky’s body that Eric knows so well he can practically feel it. Ricky grunts, feeling Aaron sink an inch or two further inside.

 

They both seem to pause then, neither of them moving but to pant for air, Aaron pressed deep and staying there. Aaron turns his face toward the webcam, his eyes squeezed closed and his face pained. Eric’s breath catches in his chest, his heart pounding, and a lump forming in his throat. Ricky picks his head up, blinking open his eyes to look at Aaron’s face. Eric watches a similar emotion wash across the younger mans face. Ricky takes a deep shuddering breath before sitting up, wrapping his arms around Aaron’s shoulders. He hugs him close, burying his face in Aaron’s neck. Aaron takes a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Ricky and pressing his mouth to Ricky’s jaw. Ricky pulls his head back, his lips finding Aaron’s and latching on. Then Aaron starts to thrust. They’re short hard pushes of hips to ass, but somehow, to Eric, they are slow and heartbreaking. Ricky’s breaks the kiss to let out a little whine, his head falling back again but his body staying pressed to Aaron’s, his hands still clutching Aaron close.

 

Eric watches breathless as they rock against each other, both of them panting for air. They’re clinging to one another, Eric realizes, like they’re afraid they’re going to be ripped apart. It makes Eric’s heart ache in his chest. But this pace can’t last forever. Aaron slides his arms out from under Ricky, bracing himself against the mattress, but retaking Ricky’s mouth as his body rocks harder and faster against his. Ricky groans, eager and loud. Aaron shifts his weight to one arm using the other to wrap around Ricky’s erection between their bellies without missing a beat with his hips.

 

“Oh, God. Aaron!” Ricky cries out. Aaron smiles a little, pressing a kiss to Ricky’s throat and turning to look into the laptop, suddenly looking much more like himself.

 

“Come on Ricky. Come for Eric. It’s his Birthday... remember?” he teases. Eric groans out loud at the words. Ricky’s eyes fly open, as if he’s forgotten Eric was there, was watching them. That this had been their present to him. His head turns toward the screen.

 

“Eric?” he asks breathless, confused.

 

“Let go, Ricky. Come for Aaron. His thighs are going to be so sore tomorrow,” Eric says teasingly. Ricky smiles.

 

“Happy Birthday, Eric,” he says. Aaron twists his wrist, tightening his hand around Ricky’s dick. Ricky cries out, his eyes falling closed and his body tensing as he orgasms. Aaron groans at the sudden tightness of Ricky’s ass. A few more thrusts and he comes too, pressing deep, and calling out both of their names. He collapses against Ricky, pulling his dick free and settling further down the bed so his head rests on Ricky’s chest. They lay together panting for air, and smiling. Eric grins out at them from the computer screen.

 

“That was amazing. You guys give the best presents!” he says making both Aaron and Ricky laugh, holding each other close bodies shaking with mirth. Ricky blinks, groaning and shaking his head. Both Eric and Aaron turn to look at him.

 

“What?” Aaron asks. Ricky sigh.

  
“I was supposed to fuck you!” he reminds Aaron. Realization dawns and Aaron laughs, shaking his own head.

 

“It’s Eric’s birthday. I think we can provide a second act,” he checks the bedside clock. “I’ll order up some pizza and we’ll chat. Then, round 2!” he proclaims climbing up off the bed to find his jeans. Ricky and Eric’s laughter seems to fill the room, and for a few minutes Aaron’s not worrying about the future.

 

 

And then, two days later Ricky is gone. Aaron kisses him one last time in the foyer of their shared home, murmurs goodbye and watches him load one last bag into his car and leave. Aaron carefully does not think about how this means he is alone now. Instead Aaron concentrates on the good. Ricky is going to join a great swimming program, and he’s going to be with Eric. Eric, who they both love so much and who has been all alone in Los Angeles for weeks and weeks. Who misses them terribly. Aaron takes comfort in knowing that the two people he loves most in the world are together. If he can’t be with them, than at least they have each other.

 

Aaron’s life becomes even more routine than before. Without the break up in his daily schedule caused by Ricky’s training with the freestyle team or Eric’s training with the breaststrokers and the IM, it’s just his swim schedule that dictates his daily life. He swims. He works out. He runs the few errands that exist away from the house, and he comes home. He watches what he wants on the TV. Listens to what he wants on the stereo. And cooks what he wants for dinner. He sleeps when and where he wants. There’s no one elbowing him over into the wet spot, or tugging on the covers, or complaining about the pillow they got stuck with. There aren’t knees wiggling between his thighs, or too long arms wrapping around back  or morning wood waking him up before dawn. All in all, it really fucking sucks. But Aaron is sort of used to life sucking. For a while it hadn’t really, but now, life sucks and there’s no denying it.

 

He goes to the pool and he works. He goes to the gym and he works some more. He comes home and there is no one there after a long practice to rub his shoulders, or suck his dick, or count off the days until they’re all together again. He picks up Ricky’s job of marking the days off on the calendar in the kitchen. But time seems to be moving slower. He has a standing date with Skype every night at 9pm. Two nights a week it’s Ricky’s smiling face he sees, Eric at late practice. Two nights a week it’s Eric, Ricky staying at the pool to train. The other three nights he’s treated to them both. Snuggled together on the couch or in bed, the laptop balanced between them. There are phone calls daily with each of them. Snagged between practices, or during meals. They’re growing closer with each passing day. It’s obvious. Aaron watches them interact. The way they laugh together or finish each other’s sentences. Of all of them Ricky and Eric are the most in tune. Ricky’s young, and Eric is young at heart. Aaron feels old in comparison. Seeing them together without being with them just makes him feel even more set apart. Aaron knows if he hadn’t gotten to Eric first, hadn’t made his move when he had, that Eric and Ricky would still have found each other eventually. There’s something about them that draws them together like magnets. It warms Aaron’s heart to see them back together again, to see them kiss, and hug, and touch.

 

But there’s a cold hard place in Aaron’s chest that hurts to see them so happy without him there. He remembers what it was like when it was him and Ricky together, how they’d both missed Eric so much. It had been like a cloud hanging over them. There’d been a sadness in the air when one of them was thinking about him, or when they talked to him. They’d both yearned for Eric. Aaron watches Eric and Ricky and they’re cheerful. They’re happy. They tell him that they love him and that they miss him, but there’s no forced smiles, or bags under their eyes. To Aaron it doesn’t compute. They don’t seem to be missing him.

 

And then there’s the pool. He’s used to seeing Eric and Ricky hanging around, even if they weren’t swimming at the same time he was. They were always just there. And after Eric left, Ricky was still there. They’d meet up for lunch or spot each other in the gym during weight training. Now there isn’t really anyone. There are of course guys to hang out with. But all Garrett wants to talk about is food. And Dave Walters is like 10x as immature as Ricky was at his worst. Neither exactly the kind of guy Aaron wants to hang out with on a regular basis. Ian and Brendan are both still living in the area. And Aaron seems them each once or twice a month, but they both have real lives now. Grown-up mature lives with jobs and responsibilities. They don’t come by the pool too often anymore, and it’s as hard to relate to them as it is to relate to the college kids on the team whose lives are all about chasing girls, the NCAA meet coming up, or their next big midterm they have to tackle. Aaron feels like he’s stuck in limbo. His life is the pool and not much else, which makes it hard to relate to the college swimmers, or the retirees.

 

And then there’s his swimming.

 

The pool is a safe haven. He knows the water here better than he does dry land he’s walked for years. The pool is predictable, reliable, and demanding. The pool in Austin, he figures, is sort of like an old friend. He knows all her ins and outs. He knows the water will always taste a little funny on Tuesdays when they mess with the chemicals. That the tiles are cracked at one end of lane 4 but no one has bothered to replace them yet. He knows there’s a short length of rope mysteriously hanging from a rafter, ¼ of the way down the pool directly over lane 6. He doesn’t know why it’s there, just that it has been for as long as he can remember. Aaron goes and swims in that pool every day, multiple times a day, without complaint.

 

And then one day he jumps into the pool and turns around to face the wall. He grips the bars under the starting block, putting his feet up on the wall in backstroke start position. He tucks up into a ball, and when his coach blows the whistle… he doesn’t react. His muscles are tight, ready to spring. He’s done this a million times in his career. This should be no different. But his body doesn’t react.

 

“Peirsol!” Eddie shouts. Aaron loosens his muscles, dropping back down into the water. He closes his eyes and lets the cool water come up over his face. He floats for a second, nothing but the sound of water lapping reaching his ears. He holds his breath, before letting the air in his lungs out in big bubbles that rush to the surface. He comes up a minute later gasping for air. Eddie is staring at him in concern. “What the hell was that?” he asks. Aaron blinks up at him, wiping at his eyes under his goggles and shaking his head.

 

“Don’t know. Got distracted,” he says, dog paddling to stay afloat. Eddie frowns at him, obviously displeased.

 

“If you want another Gold medal at the Olympics, Aaron, there is no time for distraction. Get your shit together. Now lets try this again?” he prompts. Aaron nods, pressing his goggles back to his eyes to keep the water out. He grips the bar again, sliding his feet up to brace against the wall and curling up tight. A sharp short whistle and he’s flying backward. He swims on autopilot, counting strokes and turning at precisely the right moment. He finishes the 100m out of breath and huffing. But Eddie seems pleased with his time.

 

But during the rest of practice and for hours after the only thoughts running through Aaron’s mind are as follows. “The Olympics? I haven’t thought about the Olympics in weeks. Oh yeah, that’s why I do this every day. So I can go to the Olympics.” As he drives home that night, later than usual, he thinks about the Olympics. He throws his keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter and looks up at the calendar stretching across the kitchen wall. Ricky has the next year mapped out. Days when they’re all due for a vacation or a joint meet ringed in red sharpie. The rest ringed in black. And there, at the end of the line of months August, 2012. There are two weeks ringed in blue with yellow stars at the corners. Oh yeah, the Olympics. Aaron traces the months back up to now, Late October 2011 and then back through November, December, and all the months and weeks that stretch between now and those two special weeks ringed in blue. It’s a long time. So many days. So many hours logged in the pool, and the gym, of sleeping alone each night. Aaron sits down at the kitchen table and stares at all the white boxes that will need to be marked off. And the few black Xs he’d managed to make so far since Ricky left. The remaining time seems so daunting.

 

The Olympics. Aaron puts his head down and considers. He’s a three time Olympian. He has seven Olympic medals. Five Gold and two Silver. He’s 28 years old, and training for a fourth Olympic Games. So he could what? Win an 8th medal? Michael had kind of stolen the glory out of that accomplishment. Defend his 100 back Gold medal for a second time? He felt no real desire to do that. No need to prove himself the best, yet again. Maybe win back his 200 back Gold from Lochte. That seemed impossible. Ryan was swimming like a damn machine lately, racking up the medals like they were going out of style. Aaron shakes his head. He’s been proclaimed the best backstroker in the world time and time again. He’s got more gold medals than most swimmers ever dream of having. He’s made his mark in history. He’d proved he still had it that past summer at Worlds. So why is he doing this? Why is he working so hard to go to a games that in the long run will mean nothing. He has nothing to prove, no medal he hasn’t won yet. No dream left unfulfilled. Why do this at all? Why go and swim until his chest aches and his arms feel like lead? Why suffer through hours in the gym lifting to get his strength up, when he hates it?

 

Aaron turns his head where it rests against the cool dark wood of the kitchen table. There’s a picture on the fridge of the three of them they’d taken at the beginning of summer on the boat. Eric’s face is red from a sunburn but smiling, his arms around Ricky and Aaron respectively. Ricky’s soaking wet, just having climbed out of the water, and his own grin his huge. He’s looking not at Eric in the picture but at Aaron.

 

Aaron remembers that day, spending the day out on the boat, just the three of them, arguing with Ricky over who got the last beer, only to have Eric take it from them and drink it quickly in only a few gulps. He’d been giggly and loose the rest of the evening, easy to laugh and more touchy feely than usual. Ricky and Aaron had taken turns fucking him until he finally passed out, sprawled across the bed, sunburned and smiling. Then Aaron and Ricky had pounced on each other.

 

Aaron closes his eyes and remembers that night, and all the other nights. The way Ricky had clung to him, and made love with him. The words they’d said, and how they’d said them. He thinks about the two months they’d been away from Eric, and how close they’d gotten in that time. He loved Ricky and he knew that Ricky loved him. And he’d never for one moment doubted that Eric loved him. They were too close, talked to often for that to have even crossed Aaron’s mind. Suddenly he feels like a complete idiot. They’re not pushing him out, he realizes.

 

Eric was the kind of person who didn’t like to show sadness. Even when he’d had cancer, he’d shown up at each practice with a smile on his face, and a joke ready to make them all laugh. This was the guy who went through all of Olympic Trials knowing he had cancer and doing absolutely everything he could to make sure no one knew and no one worried. That was the kind of person that Eric was. He didn’t broadcast when he was upset. You had to know his quirks. You had to catch the little things, and Aaron was too far away to see those. He didn’t know if Eric was quieter at practice, or if he was eating Grandma Utz potato chips by the bag full. All Eric ever showed him on their phone calls or on Skype was happiness. Eric was genuinely happy to be talking to him, to be chatting with him online. There was no sadness in that moment for Aaron to see. Ricky, as he had from their very beginning, took his emotional cues from Eric. One smile from Eric and Ricky would smile. They’d always been that way. Aaron wants to bounce his head off the kitchen table for ever, even for one second, thinking they were happy without him. If that were true they wouldn’t bother being so damn diligent with their Skype calls.

 

Which Aaron suddenly realizes he is half an hour late for. Rubbing at his forehead he stands from the table. He’s on his way back to the living room where he has his laptop plugged in to charge when the doorbell rings. Frowning he goes to answer it.

 

 

Part 4

 

There’s a delivery man at the door, holding a big teddy bear and a dozen red roses. Aaron frowns, sure they guy has the wrong house.

 

“Aaron Peirsol?” the guy asks, looking at his clipboard. Aaron nods.

 

“That’s me,” he says slowly. The guy grins handing over the vase and the teddy bear.

 

“Sign here, please,” he says holding out the clipboard. Aaron looks at his full hands, wondering how they guy had managed to juggle it all for a second before setting the bear down and reaching for the clipboard. He signs his name and the guy nods, smiling again. “Have a good evening,” he says turning to leave.

 

“Thanks!” Aaron calls out scooping up the bear and closing the door behind him. He flicks the lock closed and heads for the living room. He dumps the bear on the couch, and sets the flowers on the coffee table, searching them for a card. He finally finds one, tucked in a mid the dark red blooms.

 

‘To: Aaron

Happy 6 Months Anniversary!

Love: RB”

 

Aaron blinks a minute before thinking back. It’s the last week of October. They’d seduced Ricky the last week of April. Six months ago that very day. Aaron groans shaking his head before looking at the big brown bear sitting beside him on the couch. He laughs loudly, the day’s tension bleeding out of him with each body shaking laugh. Wiping at his tears he reaches forward to open his laptop and turn it on. As soon as he has Skype up he’s being asked to start a video chat. A few seconds later he’s got Eric and Ricky on his screen, concerned looks on both their faces. When they see him laughing, the big brown bear hugged to his side they seem to relax, laughing in response.

 

“I see you got my present!” Ricky says with a big grin. “Happy Anniversary, Babe!” Eric shakes his head.

 

“Did it just get there?” he asks. Aaron nods, wiping at his eyes again, still giggling a little.

 

“Like five minutes ago. Sorry I’m so late I got hung up at the pool.”

 

“No worries!” Ricky says waving off the apology. “Did you get your flowers too?” he asks, bouncing a little. Aaron nods reaching forward to pick up the vase and moving it into the cameras view. Ricky’s smile gets just a bit bigger. “Good!”

 

“Thank you, Ricky. They’re beautiful. I was really surprised,” Aaron says putting the vase back down again. Eric rolls his eyes.

 

“Probably not half as surprised as I was! He had mine delivered to the pool!” Eric says. Aaron splutters at the image while Ricky cackles.

 

“You should have seen his face it was EPIC!” Ricky howls. Eric shakes his head.

 

“A dozen roses, and a huge red lady bug!” Eric says. He gets up off the couch, and is back a moment later with a large red and black stuffed animal. “Can you believe it?” Eric asks shaking his head. “The entire team has been harassing me all day asking who the lucky girl is, and how long we’ve been together, and when do they get to meet her!” Ricky giggles from beside him on the couch.

 

“It was amazing, Aaron. I really wish you could have seen it in person,” he voice seems to change at the end of the sentence, turning a touch melancholy. But he perks up a second later, his smile returning. “So how was your day?” he asks, reaching over to yank the lady bug out of Eric’s grip and stuff it down between them on the couch. Aaron tells them about his day, about the sets he’d swum, and the reps he’d done in the gym. He tells him about the boat was finally out of the water and in dry dock for the winter. Something that makes them all al little solemn for a few minutes before Eric breaks out with a story involving some of the younger USC Trojan swimmers and a box of Trojan condoms that has all three of them near hysterics for 10 minutes.

 

They talk for an extra long time, Aaron never once mentioning his false start at practice or his night of heavy thinking. He ends the call by smiling at them both and whispering Happy Anniversary to Ricky. The smile that takes over the younger man’s face at the words, and the slight flush that creeps up his cheeks makes Aaron’s heart beat faster in his chest. He shuts the laptop and goes to bed early, taking Ricky’s big brown bear with him.

 

He lays in bed for over an hour trying to talk himself out of the decision he’s come too but there’s no good reason to continue living the way he is. He wants to retire. He just can’t go through this anymore, especially not for another year. He’d won at World’s that past summer, narrowly defeating Ryan. He’d won at Pan Pacs the summer before. He can go out on top, knowing he is still the backstroke king of the world. Let Ryan and Nick Thoman fight over who should take over his role on an international level. He’s done. His heart isn’t in it anymore. He wants to go live on the beach, and surf, and maybe coach a little in California. But more importantly he wants to be with Eric and with Ricky more than he wants to swim. That’s really the deciding factor. The water will always be there, even if the medals won’t be. But really, he decides, he has enough of those cluttering up the house anyway. Going for more would really just be greedy.

 

 

Once the decision is made, the act is easy. The next morning Aaron goes to see Eddie Reese, tells him the news, listens to the man rant for five minutes, before telling him that contrary to what he thinks, he has no intention of swimming for USC. That he is retiring, not defecting to the enemy. Eddie stares at him for a few minutes before leaning back in his chair.

 

“You’re sure about this?” he asks. Aaron nods.

 

“Yeah I’m sure. My hearts just isn’t in it anymore,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. Eddie looks at him knowingly.

 

“I know,” he says with a sigh. “Your heart is in Los Angeles.” His words nearly stop Aaron’s heart in his chest. His shock must show in his face because Eddie laughs. “I’m not an idiot, Aaron. I’ve known you guys a long time. All three of you. Noticing the little details is kind of a Coach’s job…” Aaron winces, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re good for each other. Honestly I’ve been expecting this I think. Especially after Ricky left,” he sighs. “We’ve lost a lot of good swimmers this year. Usually it’s the year after the Olympics where this is an issue,” Eddie says pointedly. Aaron grins.

 

“Sorry, Coach,” he says. Eddie shakes his head.

 

“Get out of here, Aaron. I’m sure you have bags to pack,” he says, picking up a clipboard from his desk, and starting to flip through the attached papers.

 

“Eddie?” Aaron says, standing from his chair. Eddie looks up at him. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of being a Longhorn,” he says sincerely. Eddie grins.

 

“Yeah, yeah…” he says, rolling his eyes. “Now will you stop bugging me? I’ve got work to do!” Eddie says, making Aaron laugh and turn to leave. Eddie stops him by the door. “I’ll keep it quiet. Let you make the announcement when you’re ready.” Aaron smiles.

 

“I appreciate that. Good luck,” he says. Eddie nods, waving him off again.

 

“Scoot! And I swear to god if you seduce Walters or Weber-Gale off to join the Goddamn Trojans, I’ll never forgive you!” Eddie calls after him.

 

 

Aaron gets home that afternoon and doesn’t waste any time. He throws together a big bag of clothes, packs a box of the essentials, and his surfboard, and hits the road. A large brown teddy bear strapped into the passenger seat to keep him company. He drives all night. Passing out in a seedy hotel somewhere in Phoenix 14 hours later. He lets himself sleep for three hours before getting back on the road. It’s another five hours to get to Los Angeles. He gets to the house in late afternoon to find it quiet but occupied. Unlocking the door and carrying in his crap, he sets it down by the door.

 

“Eric?” Ricky calls from the back of the house. “Still no word? I’ve been calling every 5 minutes. He won’t answer his damn phone!” his voice gets louder until suddenly Ricky’s there, standing in the doorway and blinking at Aaron in shock.

 

“Hey,” Aaron says. Suddenly Ricky’s across the foyer, his arms dragging Aaron into a hug.

 

“You’re here?” he asks, kissing across Aaron’s jaw a bit frantically. Aaron nods.

 

“Yes. Permanently,” Aaron says. Ricky freezes against him, pulling back to stare at him in confusion. Aaron grins. 

 

“What? How?” Ricky asks. Aaron smiles at him.

 

“I’m retired. Where’s Eric?” he asks stripping off his jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. Ricky stares at him slack jawed, following him into the living room.

 

“He had a late practice. We’ve been worried sick about you,” Ricky says, watching him sit down in the center of the couch, sighing with relief. He’s always liked Ricky’s old couch. “You’re retiring?” Ricky asks, like he’s not sure he’s heard right. Aaron nods.

 

“Yes. I’m retired,” he says again, holding out a hand in Ricky’s direction. Ricky takes it, letting Aaron tug him closer. He climbs into Aaron’s lap facing him, still looking confused. “Ricky. I’m here. I’m not leaving. I’m retired. I gave up swimming for you and for Eri,” he’s cut off when Ricky’s mouth descends on his. Ricky’s hands grip the back of Aaron’s head. The kiss is frantic. His tongue claims Aaron’s mouth, his head tilting at a better angle. It’s aggressive, this kiss, and Aaron groans, his hands sliding up Ricky’s back. Ricky breaks the kiss to strip off his own shirt, his hands going down to pull Aaron’s up and off over his head. He throws it over his shoulder without care, hands scratching across Aaron’s bare back. Aaron groans, pulling his mouth away from Ricky’s to hiss a little. He reaches down ripping at Ricky’s belt and the button of his jeans. He pushes Ricky back off of his lap, shoving his jeans and boxers down, shimmying out of his own, before accepting Ricky back into his lap, naked this time. Ricky grinds down against him.

  
“You’re here? You’re really here?” Ricky says in a small voice, staring down at him with hopeful eyes. Aaron nods pulling him closer, so they’re chest to chest.

 

“I’m here. I’m not leaving,” he promises. Ricky’s whole face crumples and his mouth latches onto Aaron’s again. Ricky kisses him desperately, like he’s trying to consume him. Aaron nips at his lips, hands reaching down to tug Ricky’s hips up and into his. Ricky groans, throwing his head back.

  
“Eric!” he says suddenly, eyes going wide. Leaning down, he grabs up his jeans. Aaron ignores him, letting his hands relearn the muscles of Ricky’s chest and abs, and his lips the line of Ricky’s throat. Ricky dials Eric’s number, holding the phone out to the side and putting it on speaker, so Aaron has room to lick his Adam’s apple unimpeded.

 

“Ricky?” Eric says. “It’s the middle of practice. Did something happen? Did you get a hold of Aaron?” Eric asks. Aaron smiles at hearing Eric’s voice. He nips at Ricky’s ear making him groan. “Ricky?” Eric calls louder in concern. Ricky takes a deep breath.

 

“Yes. Aaron! Aaron’s here. Come home,” he pants, Aaron’s hand reaches around to grip Ricky’s erection and Ricky bucks in his lap. He lets out a loud moan. There’s silence on the other end of the line for a beat.

 

“Ricky, is Aaron there? Right now?” Eric asks, his voice low. Aaron laughs, twisting his fist just the way he knows Ricky likes it and Ricky lets out a kind of high pitch whine in response. They hear Eric chuckle. Aaron tightens his grip on Ricky’s dick, reaching for the phone with his other hand.

 

“Eric?” he says with a smirk. “Come home, we’re starting without you!” then he drops the phone to sit beside them on the couch cushion, ignoring Eric’s voice calling out to them. Instead, Aaron lets just the very tip of one finger sink inside of Ricky’s ass, making him shout a little in pleasure.

 

“Fuck me. Please, Aaron!” Ricky begs, hands scrambling across Aaron’s shoulders. Aaron grins against Ricky’s jaw.

 

“No lube,” he whispers, kissing down to Ricky’s collarbone again. Ricky shakes his head.

 

“Don’t care. Aaron?” he pleads. Aaron’s breath hitches in his throat. He sits back, relenting. He offers the fingers of his other hand to Ricky. Ricky opens his mouth immediately, letting them press against his tongue, sucking on them, letting his teeth scrape against them.

 

“Wet. Get them wet,” Aaron says, his voice hoarse. Ricky nods, licking across the fingers. It’s not long before Aaron pulls them back, Ricky’s mouth taking his as soon as it’s empty. Aaron presses one slick finger up inside of Ricky making him groan, his hands clutching at Aaron’s back.

 

“More!” Ricky orders, pressing impossibly closer. Aaron nods, sliding a second finger inside of Ricky’s ass. Ricky gasps, pressing his forehead to Aaron’s. “Love you,” he pants. Aaron smiles slowly.

 

“I love you,” he whispers, pressing his finger tips firmly against Ricky’s prostate. Ricky shakes in his arms, shuddering with pleasure.

 

“Please. Please!” Ricky says rocking against the other man’s hand. Aaron nods, Ricky reaches down for Aaron’s dick, spreading precum over its length, licking his hand and adding that too. Aaron pulls his fingers free, adjusting Ricky’s position, and helping him kneel up higher. Ricky groans, curling one leg up, and planting his foot between the couch cushions for better purchase. Aaron guides his hips down, his erection pressing slowly inside. Ricky cries out, throwing his head back. Aaron’s arms lock around him, helping him set a steady but slow pace. It lets him press deep. Ricky picks his head up, breathing in short shallow breaths. He looks down at Aaron, one hand reaching out to press against the side of the older man’s face. Ricky groans, shifting his hips again to change the angle. Aaron dick hits Ricky’s prostate at just the right angle and Ricky shouts out wordlessly. Aaron knows he’s probably leaving bruises he’s holding Ricky so tight, but he just can’t bring himself to care.

 

The front door opens and slams closed, Eric skidding to a halt in the living room doorway. He’s still wet from the pool, his hair spiky and sticking straight up, goggle marks on the bridge of his nose and his temples. His jaw drops when he sees them, his grip on his gym bag loosening until it falls to the floor with a soft thump followed by his car keys. Aaron groans, sliding his arms further around Ricky’s body, tugging him close until they’re pressed chest to chest. Ricky groans, burying his face in the junction of Aaron’s shoulder and neck. He pants, breath coming out in short harsh gusts against Aaron’s collarbone.

 

“Aaron?” Eric whispers. He’s rushed home at their call, leaving the pool in the middle of practice. And even though he’d heard Aaron’s voice, heard the two of them moaning and groaning over the crackle of the cell phone, he hadn’t really believed he’d come home on a weekday and find Aaron there. Let alone Aaron naked and sweaty and beautiful and making Ricky break apart so perfectly. Aaron’s eyes meet Eric’s and it’s like a full-bodied rush goes through them both. It’s a visceral reaction. Eric takes an involuntary step forward and Aaron’s hips snap up hard and fast, his hand spasming around Ricky’s erection. Ricky clutches him tighter, fingers white where one hand grips the back of Aaron’s hair, and the other holding tight to one strong shoulder. He bucks in Aaron’s lap, riding out the movement and nearly howling his pleasure.

 

Aaron gasps at the reaction, thrusting again, trying to mimic the previous movement. On his second try he succeeds and Ricky reacts the same why. Aaron grins thrusting up hard again, and a beat later, again. Ricky’s breathing hitches, his body tightening up in nearly every way as the moment arrives. He cries out Aaron’s name, cum splattering over both their chests and abdomens. He slows his own movements, coming to rest against Aaron’s chest, with an exhausted sort of whimper. Aaron smiles down at him, pushing back Ricky’s too long hair off his sweaty forehead, and taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks. Ricky clings to him, slowly coming down from the high of his orgasm, and blinking open his eyes to smile at Aaron.

 

“I really… _really_ needed that,” he says softly. Aaron leans back his head to laugh. Ricky shifts his hips, groaning at the feel of Aaron still inside him, hot and hard. He rocks his hips but stops after just a few seconds. His grin turns mischievous. “You’re still hard?” it’s a non-question. Aaron nods anyway, leaning forward to try and recapture Ricky’s mouth. Ricky pushes away from him, one hand planted against Aaron’s chest keeping him from trying again. “I had my turn,” he says. He turns to grin at Eric, wiggling his eyebrows. “He’s all warmed up for ya!” Eric laughs.

 

“I can see that!” he says stepping closer, eyeing them both a little hungrily. Ricky laughs, and turns back to Aaron. He leans forward to kiss Aaron’s quickly on the mouth, pulling his mouth away before Aaron could distract him. He hugs the older man tightly.

 

“Welcome home,” he whispers, keeping his voice low. Aaron trembles a little at the words but doesn’t respond. Ricky pulls back grinning at him, before bracing himself against the back of the couch, and standing up. Aaron groans as their bodies separate, his hands fisting at his sides against the cushions. He watches Ricky sway a little, his body loose and relaxed post orgasm. Ricky turns to greet Eric who still stands in the middle of the living room as if afraid to come any closer. Ricky steps up to him, resting his hands on Eric’s t-shirt clad shoulders. He’s damp, fresh from the pool, the smell of Chlorine ripe on his skin and hair. Ricky smiles at him, leaning forward to kiss him hello. Eric’s hands grip Ricky’s hips, following the curve of muscle around to Ricky’s back and then down to the ass. Ricky laughs, pulling his mouth away and swiping his tongue at Eric’s full bottom lip. “Don’t get any ideas!” he teases, keeping Eric from pulling him any closer. Instead Ricky lifts Eric’s t-shirt, letting his knuckles graze across Eric’s abs as he pulls it up. “Aaron’s got something important to tell you,” he says softly, suddenly serious. Eric tosses the shirt on the pile forming next to the couch, and steps closer to Ricky. He looks at Aaron questioningly and Aaron smirks at him.

 

“Oh?” Eric asks, “Something to do with why he’s here in the middle of a training week, or why he hasn’t answered his cell for two days?” Ricky nods, walking around behind the smaller man. His fingers slide under the waist band of Eric’s gym shorts. He uses both of his hands to tug them down off Eric’s small hips only to find he’s still wearing his swim briefs underneath. He grins at Aaron from over Eric’s shoulder, tugging the still damp briefs down too. Eric doesn’t seem to notice. He’s staring at Aaron like he wants to climb into his lap, but he’s afraid to move any closer. As if doing so would make Aaron disappear. Ricky is suddenly reminded that the two haven’t seen each other in over 3 months, not in person at least. Aaron’s eyes however slide down, taking in the view with a wide appreciative smile.

 

“Eric?” Aaron says softly, holding out a hand in his direction. Ricky prods him in the back, nudging him forward. It doesn’t take much coaching. Once Eric’s moving in that direction instinct takes over. He walks up to the couch, sliding into Aaron’s lap and hugging him tight. Ricky watches with a smile as they cling to each other for a minute.

 

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here!” Eric says, pulling back to look at Aaron’s face. Aaron opens his mouth to answer but Eric doesn’t let him. His mouth descends on Aaron’s kissing him a bit aggressively. Ricky smirks, plopping down on the living room rug to watch. He really enjoys watching the two of them together. Eric sucks at Aaron’s tongue, releasing it to bite Aaron’s lips. Aaron groans, letting his hands roam across Eric’s back and shoulders. His fingers scratch across Eric’s shoulder blades, and Eric tears his mouth away to shout in response. He pants against Aaron’s mouth. His hands tangled in Aaron’s hair. He leans back, readjusting his legs to sit more squarely across Aaron’s lap. One of his hands slides down Aaron’s shoulder and across his chest, pausing to feel the beating of his heart. “Are you going to answer me?” he asks, eyes meeting Aaron’s. Aaron pants shaking his head and smiling. One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of Eric’s head.

 

“I retired,” he says quietly. Eric freezes against him, pulling back to look him square in the eye.

 

“Retired?” he asks shaking his head in confusion. Aaron nods.

 

“My heart moved away to California. First half of it, then a few weeks later the other half. There was nothing for me in Austin. So why stay?” he explains. Eric ducks his head.

 

“What? How…” he trails off. He looks up to meet Aaron’s eyes again. “What about training? London? You’ve worked so hard!” Aaron smiles, his hand coming around to cup the side of Eric’s face.

 

“That’s what swimming was, what it’s been for a while, work. It wasn’t fun anymore. I still love the pool. I can see myself coaching or teaching kids, and I will always want to get in the pool. But drills? Speed training? Work outs? And Sprints? I don’t have it in me anymore. I don’t have the drive, that desire to work hard. You can’t go into the Olympics without wanting it with all that you are. I don’t want it anymore. I want this. You guys. So I gave it up.” He shrugs his shoulders, his hand sliding down to follow along the curve where Eric’s neck met his shoulder.

 

“But it’s only another year… to give up when you’re so close,” Eric says quietly. Aaron smirks a little.

 

“A year from now I will be a year older, and a year more disenchanted and lonely and stressed out. Nick Thoman and Ryan Lochte and Tyler Clary… they’ll be a year better, a year faster, and a year hungrier to succeed. I’m going out on top. I won at Pan Pacs last year. I won at Worlds this year, but barely. I don’t want to go out the old guy who stayed too long. It’s time,” he says with conviction. Eric nods. He leans forward pressing his forehead to Aaron’s and sighs.

 

“I love you. I’m so glad you’re here. If this is what you really want than I,” he pauses to glance at Ricky before turning back. “We will support you no matter what,” he says. Aaron smiles.

 

“What I want is to not get up to go to the pool at 5:30am every morning. To go surfing when I want, and eat what I want. But more than that I want to be with you and with Ricky,” he turns his head to look at Ricky who beams back at him, tears in his eyes. Ricky climbs back up off the floor where he had just made himself comfortable to watch the proceedings. Instead he climbs up onto the couch beside the two of them, curling up on the cushion between Aaron and the end of the couch. Eric shifts in the other direction so that all three of them are forming a kind of triangle on the couch. Ricky reaches for them both and the next thing he knows he’s pressed against them, Aaron’s arm pulling his body close, and Eric’s hand buried deep in his hair pressing his face closer to theirs.

 

“We’re really going to be together. All three of us?” Eric asks. Ricky grins nodding.

 

“Yes!” he says in pure delight. Aaron nods too.

 

“I’m here to be with you guys. And you’re both here to train. We’re together. That is all that matters,” he says. Eric’s face splits in a wide smile and he lets out a laugh that can only be properly categorized as a giggle. Ricky laughs, pressing a kiss to Eric’s cheek. Aaron shakes his head at them, pulling them both closer. Ricky curls into Aaron’s side, pressing against him and closing his eyes.

 

“You going to teach me to surf?” he asks. Aaron’s shoulder bounces with his laughter.

 

“Eric already taught you how to wake surf…” he says. Ricky nods.

 

“Yes but I want to learn how to wave surf,” Ricky says. Eric rolls his eyes.

 

“You’re going to turn him into a beach bum aren’t you, Aaron?” he asks. Aaron looks at Ricky fondly.

 

“I’ll do my best. But Olympics first!” he says. Ricky nods.

 

“Yes, Olympics first,” Ricky says in agreement. “It’s not that long to wait. It’s only a year,” and this time when he says it there is no pain or loneliness in the words that he grins instead. Eric laughs nodding.

 

“So… you’re here,” he says pressing his forehead to Aaron’s again. His smile turns seductive. “And you’re naked..” he presses his lips to Aaron’s in a soft kiss. “And I’m naked,” another kiss. “Even Ricky’s naked,” and another. “So… why aren’t we,” his words get cut off when Aaron’s mouth presses suddenly and aggressively to his. He hums in appreciation sliding further up Aaron’s thighs, and folding his arms around Aaron’s neck. Ricky sinks back into the couch corner, relaxing in the cushions and settling in to watch. They’re beautiful together. They always have been. Ricky intends to enjoy every minute of this. It’s been a long damn time since the two had been together. He watches Eric tilt his head to the side to fit his mouth more closely to Aaron’s. The move exposes the line of his jaw and throat and Ricky’s mouth starts to water. Aaron’s hands slide down Eric’s shoulders and arms to pull him into a deeper kiss. He lets go suddenly with one hand, reaching out for Ricky.

 

That’s when it hits Ricky. They’re really both there, live and in color, just inches away and there is nobody and nothing to stop him from reaching out to touch either one of them. So he doesn’t stop himself. Leaning forward he presses his mouth to the bottom curve of Eric’s jaw. He kisses down the side of Eric’s face, and continues down the length of his tan throat. Aaron laughs, breaking the kiss with Eric to press his lips to Ricky’s cheekbone.

 

“Want to help me out?” he asks. Eric pants, tangling one hand in Ricky’s thick hair. Ricky nods, scraping his teeth across Eric’s jugular. He watches Eric’s chest stutter at the sensation. “I’ll fuck him,” Aaron says conversationally. “And then it will be your turn. He hasn’t had a good 1-2 in a while,” Aaron teases. Eric rocks in his lap, nodding his interest and making both Aaron and Ricky laugh.

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ricky says climbing up off the couch. Aaron’s hand locks around his wrist, his eyes looking just a touch panicked at the thought of Ricky leaving. Ricky smiles softly leaning down to kiss the older man. “Just going to get some lube. He has a double session tomorrow. He can’t be too sore or the coaches will yell and keep him longer,” he says. Aaron nods, and Ricky jogs from the room, the sound of Eric and Aaron’s combined laughter filling the house which suddenly feels a whole lot more like home.

 

 

And they lived (mostly) happily ever after and won lots of medals and had lots and lots of sex.

 

The End

 

 


End file.
